


Parting Regrets

by TiBun, UnknownPaws



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Ending, Blood, Bullying, Drinking, Fade to Black, Family, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mpreg, On Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/pseuds/TiBun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownPaws/pseuds/UnknownPaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William T. Spears was a student full of potential and success. Studious and dedicated to becoming a great reaper at Dispatch. But socially, he was handicapped which didn't sit well with his rather loud and social roommate Grell. Much to William's annoyance, he finds himself at a party and under pressure to "let loose" and "enjoy himself". When he finally does so, he finds his judgment impaired and he isn't likely to ever forget what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We do not own any recognizable characters, only explore the possibilities.

William glanced about the crowded room with nervous eyes, though he hid his shyness behind a facade of boredom and irritation at being forced to attend what he deemed to be an immature intervention. Students laughed and teachers monitored the situation silently whist slowly becoming more drunk by the hour, as if that alone would compensate for being forced to help out with the event for the night.

Off in the corner, William caught sight of his redheaded roommate, currently free of any overcoat and beyond tipsy. Surrounded by a dozen friends and admiring rebel-wannabes, the teenager stood up on a free table and began shouting very obscene things in French. The laughter that followed grated on William's nerves. With a huff, he turned away, burrowing into the confines of a very thick textbook and trying his damnedest to remain invisible from the room.

Not that it would make much of a difference. William had no close friends to speak of, and those he did hang around with, 'study buddies', were all part of bigger cliques and 'better' things. These were the students with a promised future of prosper--they did not have to work as hard or prove as much as one William T. Spears did.

He was simply known to most as the socially awkward boy with the weird shift in accents. The mere reminder alone sent a blush of pink to his cheeks. It wasn't his fault he was from two countries with different languages and cultures. Up until this past year, he had been studying at the Academy in Berlin. Now, entering his final year as a student, he struggled to hide his German identity from the pompous Londoners and get through his studies. Though his lazy nature did nothing to help. Procrastination was a common element to William's lifestyle. His marks were decent, average little things but William was capable of so much more if he tried.

Hiding behind his book, he kept to his little corner by the refreshments table, neither saying a word or making eye contact with anyone. He became so wrapped up in his thoughts that he failed to notice his roommate sauntering up to him with a couple of lackeys in tow.

“Willy-darling~” Grell cooed, sliding into the chair next to William and leaning in close, his head blocking the pages of William’s book, “ _This_ ,” he gestured around the room with a sharp-toothed grin, “Is what people call a ‘party’, and _you_ are not attending it in a satisfactory way, you naughty boy!”

The redhead grabbed Will’s book and tossed it over his shoulder, ignoring the splash of red punch that had long before been spiked with alcohol as the book landed in it. “I’m not leaving your studious little side until you start to have fun! Here, drink this to get started.” He said, handing William a cup of punch.

William scowled, his expression darkening. "Sutcliff, that was a library book!" he growled. "I am not paying for another damage fee caused by your antics!"

He glanced down at the drink, then at Grell. "And I have no intention to take part in such foolish tomfoolery-"

"Oh for death's sakes, Spears, lighten up!" another boy called out from a few tables down.

“Hmm,” Grell leaned back in thought, “I’ll pay for the book if you drink the punch—or, if you go over there and kiss….that guy on the mouth! A long one. No pecks!” Grell challenged, pointing to another popular boy in their class. One who was known for hating men and only liked being around women.

William blanched at the man sent a glare his way. He glanced around, suddenly becoming aware that all eyes were on him. He swallowed, and looked down at the punch again, admiring his plain reflection in the shimmering red liquid. He had two options--back down like a mature adult, and pay for the book. Or, go through with the dare and risk his dignity. As much as he would rather commit to the former, he did not have the funds or courage to face the librarian with yet another ruined book. She had already threatened to ban him completely from the library if she saw more damages, and if William wanted to study and pass, he needed that access.

So, swallowing his pride, he swirled the cup--a bad mistake--and downed it.

“Good boy!” Grell praised, “Now maybe you’ll loosen up! Oh! Mister Slingby~” Getting distracted, Grell got up and ran over to one of the teachers chaperoning the party. A handsome man who’d just transferred over from Scotland. He was well built, strong, and had a mane of golden hair that drove the girls, and some guys, crazy. He was known to be a bit of a player, as well, a man who would never be tamed.

“I challenge you to a game of strip-poker!”

Eric, already passed the stage of tipsy like most of the other teachers but surprisingly not as drunk as one would expect, glanced up from his cup of whiskey--he brought his own stuff--and grinned. "Aye... If yer gonnae be up tae it, Red. But I ain' playin'!"

William turned away, blinking when the room swayed a little. He shuddered, feeling a cold chill run done his spine. What in the world-?

“Awe, come on! Afraid you’ll be the first one to loose yer knickers?” Grell teased.

The room started spinning and Grell’s loud voice started to blur in with all the other noise in the room, leaving William disoriented and tipsy as he felt himself sway ever so slightly.  
  
Or maybe it wasn’t slightly. Arms appeared out of nowhere and caught William as he fell out of his seat, saving him from impact with the floor.

“You can’t really hold your liquor, can you, student Spears?” a voice chuckled into his ringing ears, “Come, lets get you to a quieter place.”

"Ngh...S-Sir?" William glanced up at his professor, cheeks going bright red and his accent slipping back into German. "V-Vhat are you doing...?"

“Helping you stay out of trouble.” The revered silver reaper said, leading William down the hall, “These parties are not required, Spears, you should have stayed in your room tonight and not the commons.  Hmm…if I remember your room is…this one.” With graceful ease, he opened the door and lead William over to his bed, setting him down. It was easy to tell which one was William’s. Grell’s half of the room was plastered in red. “Coffee may help…Just how much alcohol was in that punch you drank?”

"Punch?" William murmured, his mind all a blur and foggy. Though, lolling his head to the side, he flinched when he saw the silver haired man stumble in his walk. "Sir.... You are very drunk..."

“Not as drunk as you. I know my limits and I stick to it—here, it’s cold coffee from in your pot, but it should help.” He said, pushing a mug into William’s hands.

William took it with shaky hands, taking a sip. The faint taste of whisky hit his tongue, and he sputtered. Dammit, he'd forgotten that Grell was messing with the coffee that morning before class! Coughing, he set his mug down, just in time to see his teacher downing another cup. "V-Vait! Sir, don't-!"

But it was too late. The man had downed his entire cup of cold, spiked coffee, and he sputtered, “Scythe Almighty!” he coughed, “What are you children drinking these days?!”

"H-Hard whiskey... Irish..." William went beat red, half from embarrassment and half from the new dose of alcohol coursing through his body. Struggling to get up, he swayed over to his teacher, reaching out in attempt to steady him.

“Whoa, steady!” The silver reaper reached out to catch William a second time, and lost his own delicate balance, causing them both to fall back onto Grell’s silky red bed.

William gasped, feeling his body land on something soft. Cracking open his eyes, he felt his face flare up again at the sight of his mentor hovering just inches from his lips. Neither said a single word, both trapped in their own little world of shock and confusion. The alcohol sung to them a song of forbidden want and intention, eating away at whatever sensibility came to their brains. For William, it meant that all he could see, hear, smell and almost touch was this beauty before him.

"Oh Scheiße...!" he squeaked.

The Silver reaper blinked slowly, and then lowered his mouth onto Will’s, claiming his lips, and sliding his hands up along the student’s sides. It had been so long for him, he was famous and many tried to use him. But not this boy—no, this boy always worked so hard to impress him academically. William was a student with his head on straight—sometimes a little too straight, really. And if the boy didn’t push him away…there really was no harm in one night, was there?

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening was but a blur to William, the kiss sinking him deeper into a state of ecstasy that he could not resist. The next thing he knew, it was morning. The sun peeked through the window, hitting him full on in the face. William merely groaned, still caught in the wraps of sleep, his head aching and body sore in many places.

“Well~” Grell’s annoyingly loud voice cut into William’s consciousness, “What a lovely gift! A naked man in my bed~” he giggled, “Too bad you aren’t my type, darling. I suggest you move back over to your side—I need my beauty rest before we have to report in tomorrow for applying for Finals. Be off my bed and in your own by the time I get into my pajamas, Spears!”

William groaned, his eyes cracking open painfully against the morning light. "Wha'... happened?"

Sitting up, he quickly realized to horrible, embarrassing mistakes. The first, he was curled up in Grell's rather large bed. The second realization came afterwards. Scrambling out of the bed, he was hit immediately by a cool breeze. He glanced down, blanched and let out a loud scream; naked as the day he was born. Bolting across the room, he dove into his bed without getting changed, wrapping himself in a heap of blankets and hiding in them, mortified.

What the devil was going on?! Where were his clothes, his book, his glasses?! The last thought almost sent him over the edge of anxiety, his rapid breathing and hyperventilating loud enough to be mistaken for a rattling vent.

"S-Scheiße! Scheiße!"

“I don’t see why you are freaking out. I was out with friends all night. I don’t mind you used my bed.” Grell said, changing and slipping into his bed, “But now—stay quiet. Bedtime. Oh, and be a dear and close the drapes.”

William scowled at him, his eyes bloodshot and livid. It was his fault, this insufferable redheaded menace! If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be in this position. Just like that, with a simple recollecting thought, William was bombarded with memories of the night before. The sex, the booze, the fant taste of whiskey in his mou-

"ARRRGHHHH!!!!!" William shrieked, the horrible reality suddenly dawning upon him.

“Sush. I said quiet time. Screaming isn’t quiet.” Grell said, throwing one of his many pillows at William.

William took a couple of death breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He shot a glare at the redhead, about to retort and tell him that he could bloody well shut the goddamn drapes himself if he so desired it but refrained. Sutcliff was already a burden to bear on a daily basis, and another fight was not something William needed at the moment. Especially not with this headache.

Upon William’s side table sat his glasses, under which lay a quickly folded note With large scratchy letters across the front, stating William’s full name. It took him a moment to find the two items, but finally he did and with a frown, he opened the letter, his glasses sitting on his face properly.

 

_Dearest little Spears,_

_I apologize for all that may have happened last night between us. I was not in my right frame of mind, and neither were you. I hope you do not regret it too badly, as I think it would be best that we forget it had happened. You have your finals to concentrate on, and I’m not a man for—romance as it were. I’m far too busy for silly things, as are you._

_Sincerely; I have little doubt you know who you were with last night as you were screaming my name for hours~_

_P.S. You should really stop mixing your alcohol with your coffee. Bad for your concentration._

 

William paled, finally registering the slight pain in his rear. Dropping the note as if it were on fire, he scrambled back, tripping over his own shucked pants lying haphazardly on the floor.

Oh Gods, something did happen last night--the thought alone made the boy shudder and scream again internally.

“If you can’t be quiet, go study or something elsewhere, Spears…” Grell mumbled into his pillow, completely unaware of William’s situation.

William gingerly picked up the note, reading it over once again before crumpling it up and tossing it into the rubbish bin by his desk. This was a mistake, just an accident--it was better he did as the other wanted and forget all about it. Though, as he sat down upon the bed, fishing under the covers for his pajama bottoms, a new memory came to him. Pale skin, silver hair, long black fingernails scratching down his back-

William groaned, holding his head in his hands. Lovely, just bloody perfect. Out of all people he could sleep with, it had to be with the most taboo choice. Part of him felt a small twinge of hurt at the man's rejection of their one night alone, but the rest of him was overly relieved the other did not hold it against him. The last thing he wanted was for his idol to despise him in some way.

Pulling his pants on him, he crawled under the covers and curled up, pushing the night out of mind and heart as he drifted back off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

A month passed and William, much to his and Grell’s dismay, found out that they had been teamed up for their final exam, and they were given their reaping target. Of course Grell was all too quick in his evaluation and William had to hold him back so that the job would be done correctly.

He spent his days with Grell, researching their target, and once, against recommendations not to, William spoke with the target. A writer struggling to get published. He read the man’s work and gave his input. Surprisingly, he had inspired a whole new book from young Thomas. And he began watching the progress of a work of art.

But Thomas’ death date was approaching as the second month came to an end, and William started to feel off. It confused him. He had taken care not to care about Thomas too much, yet the more he thought on Thomas’ death, the more sick he felt.

And finally that feeling sent him running into the small bathroom he shared with Grell and two other reapers the next door down.

“Will! You are cutting into my morning bathroom time!” Grell’s voice shouted on the other side of the door as William bent over the toilet, “I need to get ready and if you dare make me late today I’ll make you regret it!”

William ignored him, too preoccupied with heaving his innards out in the porcelain bowl. He groaned, feeling his stomach toss and turn about inside of him. Hearing Grell ram his fist on the door once more like an impatient sibling, something snapped inside of him.

How dare the redhead be so... so demanding when he was ill and struggling to get through the day!

"Grell, _kannst du nicht einmal still sein_!" he managed to garble loudly, his accent very thick that morning.

“You had better just said you’re coming out now, don’t shoot!” Grell snapped. He didn’t speak German, after all.

At this, William growled, too fueled by his anger and odd emotional state to consider reason over reaction. " _Ich werde so lange hier bleiben, wie ich verdammt nochmal will_!"

“I DON’T SPEAK GERMAN YOU PANSY! GET OUT OF THAT BATHROOM!” Grell screamed, kicking open the door and breaking the lock.

William stood up, his face red and emotions bubbling to the surface. " _Du Idiot_!!!"

“This is England! Speak English!” Grell snarled, paying him no mind and walking over to the sink to start getting ready—whether William was there or not.

" _Ich werde meine Muttersprache sprechen, wenn ich es will_!" William growled, roughing pushing past the redhead and muttering under his breath. "Assfaced Shark..."

“Blaa-blaa potatoes.” Grell huffed, kicking the door shut behind Will.

"French whore!" William shoved the door back open in retaliation, his voice quivering slightly as he turned and stormed back over to his dresser.

“At least I get some! You’ll never lose your virginity, prick!”

"FOR YOUR INFORMATION, I HAVE 'GOT SOME'!" William roared, his voice cracking from the welled up emotions in his throat.

Shuddering, he turned his back and yanked open a spare drawer, pulling out a freshly pressed suit and bloomers. Goddamn, what in the world was wrong with him?! He had never been this worked up before, not even as a child! What in the world had gotten into him lately?

“Yeah right. You’re too prim and proper for that. You’re horrified by sex! Every time I bring a man into our room you have a fit! Just admit it—you’re asexual!”

"And you are on ze level of a prostitute!" William snapped, slipping into his clothes with ease. "I do not 'ave time for zis--just get dressed, dumkoff."

“I don’t get paid. I do it for the fun. No problem with that~” Grell said, brushing his hair and then shaking it looser.

William snorted, and said not another word. He straightened his tie and slipped on his blazer over his vest, glancing up into the mirror above the dresser. Today was the day--the day Thomas Wallis would be reaped. There was no other way out; as much as William wished it were so. Emotions were not to be held in their job, as it would only serve to interfere with their judgment of the souls. As much as he had grown to care for the young Thomas... it had to be done.

Just the thought alone made him uncharacteristically choke up again, a tear slipping from his eye down his cheek.

Grell got dressed quickly and picked up his scythe, attaching it to his belt. “Hurry up, we have work to do today…” he muttered, still not happy of being paired with William.

William shook his head, wiping away the tear and grabbing his own scythe before following Grell out.

 

* * *

 

The day went by smoothly, no errors or mistakes. Until it came to the actual reaping. William watched as Thomas ran out into the street, his heart heavy. He'd left Grell somewhere a few blocks back, finally opening up to his true potential as a Reaper. Grell, as it were, did not expect William to be on the same level as he, and thus let his guard down too easy. William scowled; the nerve of the redhead, trying to interfere and mess around with their final decision. It looked as if William hadn't been the only one to have doubts. But, when it came down to it, there were only two choices--their careers, or sympathy. William chose the former, hard as it was.

Hearing the bang, he flinched, seeing Thomas's poor body being trampled by a carriage. He shifted, swallowing against the queasiness in his throat, and readied his scythe--it was time. Leaping off the edge of the roof, he soared down to the snowy cobblestone street, landing with perfect ease and unnoticed by the troubled humans crowding around the poor youth.

He approached, said a few words, and then drove the scythe through Thomas's chest, revealing his records. In the midst of confusion, William escaped the humans up on the roofs again, holding the soul out in front of him. Yet, just as he was about to finish the deed, his stomach churned.

William bit back a gasp, clamping his lips together. _'No! Not now_!'

At that moment, Thomas turned his head, reaching for the scattered pages of his masterpiece. The book he’d worked so hard on over the past month. He had to live! His book had to be published! It gave him the need to live, and his records reacted, flying up and attacking the reaper collecting them, swiftly knocking off William’s glasses as they grabbed hold of the young Death God, dragging him above the rooftops and running through his body and soul; fighting to live and return to their body – return to the strong young soul fighting for his life.

William gasped, letting out a cry of pain as a burning white hot pain ran through his entire body. Images suddenly flashed before his eyes, moving pictures of Thomas's life. From his birth, to the hardship of his childhood, to his death. William watched it all, his throat clogging and choking up as tears ran from his eyes. Yet, in the back of his mind, a new voice seemed to scream out.

A scythe cut the records free from William, “Annoying, you get me all hot and burning, but then you fool around with him.” Grell caught his scythe and stood up from where he was leaning on a chimney. He smiled and walked over, taking William’s glasses and placing them on his face, “Take good care of your glasses.”

Grell stood up and turned to the records still ready for the attack, “Hey, don’t hit on my man, you man stealer!” he readied himself for the fight, scythe in hand.

William coughed, shivering as he struggled to his feet. Taking his scythe again into his hand, he wiped a small trail of drool off his chin. "I'm not your man!" he huffed indifferently to Grell, facing up to the record.

Grell just smiled wider and the two leapt into battle with the wayward records, determined to pass their exam and become full reapers with the dispatch.

With the soul finally collected, the two ventured backed to the Realm. William swallowed, keeping on hand on his stomach and the other on their collections list on the way down to the examiners' room.

 

* * *

 

William and Grell had passed the exam and were given permission to obtain custom glasses. And then they began work as junior dispatch officers, being paired up with a senior officer. William had been assigned as Eric’s partner, and they clashed in styles, though Eric was a good teacher, helping William improve his skills and define his own way of collecting. In turn, William kept Eric on track for his paperwork. The Scotsman had a horrible time remembering it on his own, and he often procrastinated.

But the sickness William had awoken to on the day of his first reap didn’t pass. It kept interrupting his mornings quite rudely, and finally, he’d had enough of it and found himself in the reaper hospital to find out how to stop it.

The doctor walked in, a clipboard in hand and a smile on her face as she looked over William’s test results. She regarded him with a chuckle, “Good news, Mister Spears, the results are not negative ones. In fact, they are very positive. Would you like to call your boyfriend in before I tell you the results?”

William gave her an odd look, shivering as he sat upon the table in only a thin paper gown. "I... have no significant other, Ma'am." he stated. "I have no time for a relationship nor do I want one."

“I see…” her smile fell into a frown, “Then perhaps this isn’t the news you wish to hear. Mister Spears—“ she sighed and handed him the lab results, “You are three months pregnant.”

At first, William thought he had misheard. But the longer he stared at the nurse, the more he came to realize that he had indeed not been mistaken and she had spoken truthfully.

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say?" Such things weren't unheard of. Male reapers had just as much a chance at having a baby as females, unlike humans. But he couldn't be! It had just been one time!

“You are with-child.” She nodded to his belly, “You are going through morning sickness, that is all.”

"I...I...."

Everything seemed to grow still for William, his mind blanking out and all sound silencing. No, this was not possible! How in the world could he be pregnant. Not even registering the nurse calling out his name, he shaking reached down, placing a hand on his belly.

"H-How.... I can't be... No..."

“Mister Spears!” She set her hand on his shoulder, “Giving yourself an anxiety attack won’t help you.”

William took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His heart sank at the reality crashing down upon him. This wasn't supposed to happen--how could he have gotten himself pregnant? Yet the moment he asked himself the question, he was granted with the answer. Remembering his one night, the dreaded accident that should never have happened, he groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. God, how could he be so stupid!

Sighing, he lowered his hand, glancing down at the slight bump of his belly as he contemplated his choices.

"What... options do I have? I am a junior Reaper... I still am required to partake in classes and I share a dorm with my roommate, Grell Sutcliff..."

“You…are too young for a safe abortion.” She apologized, “Your body isn’t quite developed yet, you have a few more years before your body stops growing. To abort a child would cause you serious harm that could take you right out of work, possibly forever. You’d have to start down a new career path. You have to carry to term, but…you have the choice to keep it or put it up for adoption.”

William hesitated, thoroughly troubled. He immediately decided to give the child up. He had no interest or desire to raise the _thing_ growing inside of him. It was an accident; something that should not exist. The fact that he now had to go through with a full term pregnancy infuriated him. Turning his head down once again, he gave a glare of pure hatred to the bump containing the unborn fetus.

Yet, some small part of him scolded his behavior, telling him that is was his mistake and therefore his duty to take responsibility over it. But the cons and debilitating factors outweighed the pros and kinder reasoning. This was in his interest, not some child he had no say in making.

"Adoption. I have no time or need for a child. It would only pull me down in my job and take up too much time."

“Very well. I will get you some pamphlets. You will still need to know how to take care of yourself and the baby while pregnant, and I’ll dig up some on adoption so you know what to expect.”

William could only nod, his energy completely spent.

 

* * *

 

He flipped through the pamphlets that night on the bus, hiding them behind a small romance novel. Too many thoughts were running through his mind. How in the world was he supposed to come to terms with this? There was another life growing inside of him!

Then his thoughts became slightly panicky. What was he going to do in the upcoming months? If he went to work with a rounded stomach, he'd be demoted for sure. Junior Reapers were supposed to remain focused on their studies--anyone who fell under the radar soon found themselves looking for another career. At the same time, he couldn't hide away--skipping work was almost as bad as going in pregnant.

Biting his lip, William forced back frustrated tears. _'Gottverdammt_!'

He couldn't tell anyone--not even Eric or Grell. No one was to know about this. No one at all. Glaring down at his stomach again, he venomously blamed the problem on the baby.

"I hate you..." he hissed.

* * *

To be continued...

 


	2. Chapter 2

Grell was seething.

Again!

Again William was completely invisible to him! They were room mates and he never even got to see the handsome man. Not even once in the past two months. It started slow. William became even quieter. Keeping more and more to himself and his work. But after a month of that, the man vanished. Last one home, well after Grell fell asleep, first one up and out before Grell awoke… Even at work he was invisible. No one ever saw him, though, somehow, his collections and paperwork would be turned in on time and done properly. It puzzled even Eric who was supposed to be William’s mentor and partner. But, as long as the work got done right and on time, Eric didn’t have a problem with William’s strange behavior.

Two months without seeing his man once was too much as far as Grell was concerned. So, he tried something new, and in the middle of his work day, he went home to his and William’s small dorm room.

Hearing the shower running, he grinned in triumph. “Caught you, Darling~” he cooed at the door. He sat on William’s bed and waited for him to come out.

William ran his sudsy hands through his dark brown hair, trying to ignore the gentle fluttering occurring in his stomach. Three months had past since he received the news at the hospital, and William was no more comfortable with his situation than he was on that day. He continued to work in public until his fourth month, when his belly started to show in a noticeable paunch through his suit. After that, he took to hiding in various locations to do his work--downtown libraries in shady locations, pubs, even in the mortal realm in Thomas's old attic room. Never in the same place twice, in fear that he would be recognized by his appearance. So far, it seemed to be working--he got his work done, completed his reaps, and no one seemed to question him. It was satisfying enough to know that his charade was working.

However, the relief was soon drowned out by emotional pain. After discovering his pregnancy, William attempted to track down the reaper who had slept with him. Part of him, for reasons he could no comprehend, hoped that the man would agree to take the child--at least, then William could know that it would be raised in a loving, nurturing home. Not that he cared; he just wanted what was best for his situation. If anyone found out about his cruel decision to give the child up, gossip would start. Rumors would spread, ones that could potentially harm William's career.

That was something William could not risk.

But it had not been a good reaction--the moment the silver reaper found out about William's pregnancy, he closed off all communications between the two of them.

William scowled, his heart hurting the more he thought about it. It was this _thing's_ fault, this baby growing unwanted in his body. Yet, some part of him felt--dare he say it-- sorry for the little life. A product of two people who did not love each other, unable to be granted love from either parent as it was not desired by either. It was a tragic fate, and William's confliction was only made worse now that the fetus had begun moving ever so slightly.

Finishing up with his shower, he stepped out onto the cool bathroom floor, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. Normally he would be hiding away. However, today Grell was assigned for a late night shift, and would not be back until later. So, in light of this, William took the opportunity to rest up and shower while he had the dorm to himself.

At least, he assumed he did.

Drying his hair, refusing to look in the mirror at his swollen form, William turned the knob to the door and stepped out into the adjoining room-

-only to freeze moments later at the sight of Grell sitting on his bed, looking straight at him. His belly fully exposed for the redheaded boy to see.

“Darl—ing…” Grell started to grin and wiggle his fingers in surprise greeting, but his gaze fell down to the swollen belly on his handsome would-be beau. “…what’s that?”

William's mouth hung open, voice completely lost. "I...I..." he stammered, unable to move or speak. Then he paled as he felt the child inside of him move, visible enough for the redhead to see.

 _'Scheiße_!'

Grell got up and swooped in, kneeling before Will and pressing a finger to his belly just in time to feel the baby give a weak little kick. “William…you have an infestation!”

William jumped slightly, still struggling to come up with a response to the redhead's presence in their shared room. But all he could muster was a pathetic, "I... What?"

“So this is why you have gone invisible…” Grell mused then jumped up, leaning in, “Who the hell did this to you? I want names!”

"I..." Shaking his head, William finally composed himself. "That's none of your business!"

“It is my business! You’re my man!” Grell huffed, crossing his arms.

"I am not your man! I am not your anything!" William snapped, his temper rising. The baby kicked him in the side, and he scowled down at it, adding rather venomously. "Oh do be quiet. You have no say in what happens."

The baby kicked again, as if protesting. It always seemed to move, to remind William it was there. Trying to gain his love, trying to tell him that it loved him.

William ignored it, or tried to as best he could, turning back to Grell with narrowed eyes. "Why are you here?!" he hissed, pushing away the urge to cradle his unborn child for reassurance. It was a bad habit he was getting closer to committing.

“I wanted to see you. It’s been two months, Will!” Grell said, hanging off of his shoulders.

"I could do with not seeing you at all." William grumbled. Ever since the exam, Grell had become so clingy over him. Constantly flirting, fantasizing, and courting the dark haired Reaper as best he could. It irritated William to no end--he yearned for the days when they were but simple roommates, keeping to themselves.

Grimacing at the uncomfortable squirming from the child, he pushed past the man with a shake of his head, walking over to his bed. There was no point in hiding himself now--Grell was practically looking at him naked anyways. Lying back against the pillows, he closed his eyes and waited for the child to settle before speaking again.

"This is a nightmare..."

“I could make it a dream~” Grell said, moving over Will on the bed and smiling down at him, “I’ll forgive you for cheating on me~”

William glared up at him, trying to be as intimidating as he could whist in his current state. However, the moment he reacted, he regretted, knowing fully well than any attempt to scare the redhead off was futile. The man was more resilient than a brick wall. So he simply sighed and rolled over, focusing—reluctantly—on the fetus.

"Stop that..." he grumbled. "I'm not a punching bag..."

The baby kicked again, begging its mother for the love it desperately wanted. It wanted to know it was loved. Unborn baby reapers had something unborn humans didn’t. A special mental connection to their mother, and it could feel how William ignored it.

“Will, come on, just a kiss?” Grell coaxed.

But at the same time there was a much stronger kick, and an echo in William’s mind that sounded a lot like “ _Mama._ ”

"SHUT UP!!" William couldn't take it anymore, accidentally elbowing Grell in the face as he slapped his hand against his belly. The minute he did it, he regretted it. The anger dispersed, leaving behind a new, foreign emotion--guilt. His skin stung from where his palm had met flesh, and he knew the baby would have slightly felt the strike towards it mentally.

William went still, his expression horrified. What had he just done? As much as he hated the thing, he wasn't inclined to hurt it. His actions just now, they sparked a new way of realization. One he should have felt months before.

Inside of him, felt the child move again. But it wasn't a kick or a shifting in body, but almost shaking. Quivering, as if the unborn baby was crying. William swallowed; his heart heavy. He hadn't expected this to happen--not this amount of pain. Glancing down at his belly, he jumped again when the small voice echoed in his head once more.

“ _Ma…ma_ …” It was small and weak, the echoed voice full of fear and rejection. “ _Mama_ …”

There was no more kicking, no more shifting and bubbly little taps to say ‘I love you, mama’ Only that odd trembling.  
“WELL!” Grell had gotten up and walked to the door, clearly upset at Will for striking him in the face. He slammed the door on his way out.

William paid the man no heed, shivering slightly as he reached down, gently brushing his fingers over the brusing skin. 'B-Baby...?'

He felt another movement inside, as if the baby flinched away from the first gentle touch he’d offered it.

A single tear ran down his cheek without notice, and he grit his teeth, weakly slamming his fist into the wall. "GOTTVERDAMMT!" he screamed, choking up at his own lack of self control. "Oh Gott... Gott, vhat have I done?"

William choked again, lowering his now bruised fist to touch the baby again. A small hiccup floated from his mouth, his heart quivering at the baby's sorrow. He could feel it, there small connection straining to hold on by a simple thread. Gently, he started to rub the bruised spot, exactly where he could feel the baby resting.

"Oh baby... Baby... Poor baby..."

Slowly, very slowly, he felt the baby relax slightly, though not as care-free as normal, and a tiny hand pressed under Will’s hand, as if asking what it did wrong.

"Oh Baby... I'm... I'm so sorry... So sorry..."

He caressed the area where the tiny hand was pressed with a finger, his hand flying to his mouth as more tears and sobs escaped. Sick... he was going to be sick! Scrambling up, he raced to the bathroom, collapsing before the toilet just in time for bile to rise up.

The feel of a second hand touched Will’s inner walls, and the baby seemed to curl up against it, trying to comfort William. It was still scared, but it could never hate its mama.

William groaned, falling back against the tiles of the bathroom floor, his hands clutching his stomach. Feeling the child cuddle against his hands, he let out a small sigh of relief. He had no idea how to feel about his situation anymore. But at least now he knew he cared enough about the child's wellbeing and safety. The memory of his anger made him shiver in disgust, and he made a silent vow to regain a better attitude. As much as he was still disgruntled, it was not the baby's fault, but his own. The poor thing did not ask for this hatred, this life... William had been cruel enough to grant it that.

Biting his lip, William stroked the child, trying to coax that new little voice out of hiding. _'Baby...? Speak to me... Baby_?'

Silence stretched on until William nearly gave up listening, but finally, a tearful echo of ‘ _Mama’_ was heard in his mind.

William let out a small, breathy laugh. "Baby... Little baby..." he whispered, hugging his stomach for the first time in the months since he found out. "Little one..."

* * *

 

As more time passed by, the baby growing and William becoming more and more attached to it. The baby was the only one he’d show his emotions to. The only one he loved—and he made sure the little one—his little one—knew that he was loved.

He had just gotten back to the dorms after a check up and he’d been told the baby was a boy.

He still ghosted through work and life, careful not to be spotted by anyone he knew or anyone who worked Dispatch apart from Grell. The redhead knew already, so their was no point in hiding from his room mate.

Grell sat at the open window of their dorm room, watching the stars above. That night there was a celebration going on for Reaper kind. A holiday of sorts and most were out to watch the fireworks and take part in the festivities. But Grell had stayed behind, knowing that William wouldn’t be going out that evening. He wanted to watch the fireworks with him from the window.

William had grown exceptionally calmer around the redhead, going from disgusted to merely neutral towards his company. At the current moment, he sat beside Grell by the window sill, dressed in his pajama pants. He refused to wear a shirt as the pregnancy wore on, feeling it was better to expose the child to the fresh air. Somehow, he got the feeling that his son would be an outdoorsy type character. The baby always seems to enjoy nature more than being in the city, so William set to taking a small walk in the woods by their dorm every afternoon.

Holding a book in one hand, William read silently, though it was not to himself but to the baby. He'd picked up the habit a couple of weeks back--at the moment, they were halfway through _A Midnight Summer's Dream_.

The baby seemed to wiggle happily inside him, and a little giggle echoed in his mind. William only ever heard cute little sounds and the one word; _mama_.

“Why do you read out loud all of a sudden?” Grell asked, still waiting to see the fireworks.

"I'm reading to my son." William replied simply, stroking his stomach with a small smile. "He loves hearing stories--I think he will become quite the scholar."

Grell finally turned and blinked at William, “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of keeping it.”

William went silence, his eyes traveling down to his swollen belly.

“…Will, you can’t keep it.” Grell said, touching his arm, staying calm around William for once. It was rare. Normally Grell was focused only on stealing a kiss. “There is no way you can afford it—and what about your job?”

William turned away, though a few tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. "...He's my son... I can't..."

“Can’t what? Will, you’ll be giving up everything! It’d be different if this had happened in a few years once you are no longer a junior officer. We get paid so little! We still are living in dispatch-issued dorm rooms, Will! We have food credits for the cafeteria because we can’t even afford to feed ourselves on our minimal paychecks! Babies are expensive, loud, smelly—and they eat up all your time! Not to mention you can’t take a baby to work. How would you pay for a nanny?”

"Don't!" William choked, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I don't... don't want to hear it... I don't want him to hear it..."

He sobbed, resting his hands on his belly, cradling the unborn child inside. "Alan... Alan can't..."

“Oh…” Grell groaned, “Will! You don’t name it! Once you name it it’s harder to let go! Its like a stray cat you sometimes feed—never name it!”

But William smiled down at his belly, his mind already made up. "His name is Alan Thomas..."

“You named it! Damn it William! You named it! You are a complete idiot and you only made it more painful for yourself!”

But William was overflowing with happiness--so much, in fact, that he completely drowned out the redhead's words. Smiling up at Grell for the first time in months, he gestured to his stomach. "He's kicking... come say hi."

“I don’t want to say ‘hi’ to it! Little brats aren’t my thing!”

"He says 'come say hi to me!'" William taunted in a sing-song voice, the latter of which sent chills down the redhead's spine. "I feel marvelous tonight, you know? I feel like I could go out and...and get some chocolate with mash!"

The baby kicked excitedly.

Grell shook his head, “That sounds disgusting. But never mind that—I’m only looking at what’s best for you, William! And keeping that brat isn’t it! It’s not what is best for you, and it’s not what’s best for it! You can’t support it once it’s born.”

William merely hummed to himself, smiling when he felt Alan dancing to his little song in his belly. Then he had an idea, a risky sneaky idea. "Oh Grell~" he cooed in a husky voice. "The baby says I should give you a kiss~"

“…Have you been drinking?” Grell asked, frowning. William was acting so out of character. It was startling.

William scowled. "I do not drink while pregnant, Sutcliff."

“You also never want to kiss me!”

"Hmph. Well, if you are so sure, then I guess you do not want a kiss from me at all." William scoffed, turning his head away.

“No, not when it’s being used as a tool to shut me up because you don’t like the reality I’m tossing at you!” Grell huffed.

William huffed, refusing to come to terms with it, instead busying himself with comforting the baby. "It's alright, little one... Mama will protect you."

“Uhhhg.” Grell fell back on Will’s bed and dragged his hands down his face, “You only feel you have to keep it because your hormones are going haywire.”

"Believe what you want to believe, it is of no concern to me." William grunted, following suit and lying on his back. "Ugh, my hips and spine are killing me. I feel like an 80 year old human..."

“That’s your own fault for getting infected with a baby in the first place!” Grell pointed out. He sighed, “Why won’t you tell me who the Father is?”

William bit his lip, hesitating at first. "...T-The Silver Reaper..."

Grell blinked, sure that the man was joking. “Ha! Good one. Everyone knows that man is married to his work! He never fools around!”

"Don't believe me? Go look in the rubbish bin by my desk" William nodded to bin, still containing the only one note of that faithful night. "There's a note from him."

“No one can seduce him! Trust me, I tried!” Grell said getting up and going to the bin. The paper had been sitting there for months, a layer of dust upon it as Grell plucked it out and uncrumpled it. His eyes widened. The writing was that of the High council member known as the Silver Reaper, and the words written—

“Have you told him?”

William flinched, rolling onto his side. "Y-Yes... He told me to get out of his sight. To never speak of this again. To abort the baby, and leave the Dispatch. He... He said many things I do not wish to repeat..."

William looked so dejected--hurt as if his heart had snapped in two.

“Why didn’t you abort it?”

"Doctor said I couldn't... it would destroy my body..." William admitted. "Though now... I could never get rid of him in such a way..."

His poor baby--William growled inwardly, promising to protect the child at all costs. This was his son--he may not have wanted him at first, but the little life had rubbed off on him. It was natural as a mother for him to feel protective and connected to his little one.

"Sweet baby Alan..."

Grell sighed. There was no talking him out of it. “You are in for a world of hurt, keeping it…” he said, sitting back down, “Unless you can get the father to be in its life.”

"Mmm..." William hummed, paying no more attention to the subject, resting his head on Grell's leg. Suddenly seeing an opportunity, he smirked, grabbing the redhead's hand and placing it upon his belly. "Consider this revenge for the Valentine's Day incident."

Grell stiffened, feeling a tiny kick against his palm, “This is unnatural! Why does it move?!”

William snorted. "It is completely natural, imbecile. He's growing--of course he is going to move around."

He shifted, feeling his son press a small hand to Grell's, eagerly greeting this stranger accompanying his mother. "He likes you."

“That changes nothing of this situation!” Grell huffed, taking his hand away, “I don’t like kids.”

The baby kicked hard in protest, William gasping and rubbing a hand to the spot. Shaking his head, he glanced up at the window, feeling sleepy. "Ugh... I will have so much overtime tomorrow... Eric is a git."

“It’s because you have been invisible to the dispatch’s eye for months. Eric’s getting tired of it.”

"Grell, I simply cannot walk into work like this! I'll be fired, you know that!" William sighed, closing his eyes for a second. "Eric... Cannot know."

“Eric’s more laid back than most of our senpais, Will. He wouldn’t care as long as your work gets done.”

"I just... He can't know, Grell, he just can't..." William opened his eyes again, letting out a little gasp. "Grell... the sky..."

“Hmm?” Grell straightened up and looked out the window, “Oh, they finally started the fireworks. “Have you never watched them before, Will?”

"No." he admitted. "I... didn't have a family growing up, really."

“Then come on.” Grell opened the window and pulled William up, settling him right in front of it where he’d get the best view of the colored fire exploding across the sky over the reaper city.

William stared out into the night sky, jumping slightly as a new explosion of bright red and green occurred, his eyes wide.

“You should really get out more often, Will. There are beautiful things to enjoy.” Grell said gently with a smile.

"They are..." William agreed "Such beautiful things..."

* * *

 

“Eric! Darling, might I have a word? It’s actually important this time!” Grell called out across the dispatch as he left the lift and ran for the Scotsman about to go into his office. He knew William didn’t want Eric to know, but _someone_ had to know. Someone who could be of a little help.

Eric stopped just short of entering his office, turning and raising an eyebrow at the redhead. What in the world did this kid want this time? He already had enough on his plate with his current over-the-top girlfriend--whom he was considering breaking things off with--and overtime, plus his student. William had yet again failed to show up for work, despite the paperwork that kept coming in from the boy.

"Look, kid, if yer askin' me fer a date again, I'm already committed as it is-"

“I said this is important!” Grell said, shoving the man into his office and closing the door for privacy, “It’s about Will!”

Eric was about to lecture the boy on his place as a junior but paused at the mention of his student. "...Wha' 'bout Spears?"

“I know why he isn’t ever showing his face around here.” Grell stated, “And he’s really scared people will find out but I really think you need to know… Promise you’ll be understanding?”

Frowning, but overly curious, Eric nodded, taking a seat behind his desk and groaning at the sight of a new pile of paperwork waiting for him.

Grell sighed and sank into a chair opposite Eric, “It seems…he had an accident a few months back. He’s afraid of loosing his position of Junior Officer for it, should anyone find out. I found out by accident, myself. –he’s in really bad shape.”

Now Eric was concerned. "Wha's wrong with 'im?"

“…He got drunk with a superior and mistakenly had a one-night stand which resulted in him getting a parasite growing in him and he couldn’t abort it but the father of it is treating him like trash and telling him to never bring it up to him again and Will is starting to care for it even though he shouldn’t but it’s huge now and he’s given it a name and he wont listen to reason about it! He can’t expect to have both his job and the baby!” Grell exploded all at once.

Eric stared at him, his mouth hanging open from shock. "Please... tell me this is a joke..."

“If you saw him, you’d know it wasn’t. He’s in deep, and it’s not even his fault. Look.” Grell pulled out the crumpled paper he’d taken from William’s bin.

Eric snatched it from his hands, scanning over every word written. His eyes widened and he glanced back up at Grell, completely bewildered. "This... this is-"

“I’m worried about him.” Grell nodded, “He needs help.”

Eric exhaled, pushing his chair back from his desk. "Where is 'e?" he growled, rising from his seat and collecting the papers upon his desk. It seemed as if he would be working out of office today.

“Home, I think. When I left he wasn’t feeling too good. I thought I’d let him sleep. He’s always good about getting his work done in time at any rate.”

Eric merely nodded, pushing past the boy on his way out the door. "Oi... Yer comin' with me, kid. I dun have yer room key."

* * *

 

William groaned, his head pounding and his stomach churning as he lay in bed, trying to sleep. Morning had not been kind to him, blessing his person with a violent round of late trimester morning sickness and a migraine from the changing weather. The minute he awoke, he knew there was no way he would be leaving the room that morning. So, instead, he took refuge in the confines of his bed, trying to rest his discomfort off.

A feat easier said than done when the baby was constantly moving inside of him. Cracking open his eyes for the fifth time, William let out a frustrated sigh, gingerly stroking his belly.

'Please, baby, let Mama sleep... Mama isn't feeling well...'

But the baby didn’t stop. His tiny body twitching inside William’s womb, as if he was also in pain.

William curled up as best he could with a whimper, feeling his discomfort worsen a smidge. "Ugh... Baby, what are you doing in there?"

And then, the echoed voice of a cry of pain became known in Will’s mind as the pain increased, shooting through his body and straight to his heart.

William let out an ear piercing scream, clutching his stomach as the baby withered alongside him, his body on fire. His head felt ready to split open, pounding relentlessly against his forehead and the heat increased ten fold. His body twitched and jerked as if going through an electrical shock, and his vision went completely white. He gasped and cried, tears spilling down his cheeks as he clawed frantically at the blankets. Then, the pain spiked and there was a rush of liquid pouring between his legs and the scent of iron filling the air.

William shivered, touching his wet underside with a shaky hand. Blood, red as a rose, pooled out from his body in a slow flow, creating a giant mess the more William squirmed and withered against the pain. The teen coughed, sputtering as the baby kicked his stomach twice before vomiting, blood pouring from his open mouth like a fountain.

Grell and Eric were down the hall when they heard William’s screams, and they took off running to the dorm room. Grell tripping over himself as he unlocked the door and pushed open the door, “OH SWEET MOTHER RHEA! _WILLIAM_!”

Eric followed after him, his eyes widening at the sight of his student lying in a bloody mess upon the bed. "FUCK!"

William barely could lift his head, shivering slightly as he tried to speak. "Gr...ell.... E...r...ic... He..lp...m..ee!"

He held his stomach tightly, the kicking disturbingly visible as if it were something out of a horror novel. Eric pushed past Grell, rushing over to the bedside and assessing the situation. "Grell, look after him, I'm gonna go call the infirmary. Ya have a phone in 'ere?!"

Grell shook his head, “Down the hall. We have a community phone.” Grell pointed, moving to William’s side and taking his hand.

Eric nodded, racing out the door and down the hall. William, meanwhile, lolled his head to the side, feeling the pain ebb away slightly. "Gr-ell... My baby... H-He...is... sick! My...little Alan!"

“Shush, we’re getting you help.” Grell reassured, “You’ll be fine.”

William shuddered, new tears spilling from his eyes as he focused his thoughts on the baby. _'Sweetheart_?'

As the pain faded, the baby went still, no longer responding, no longer moving or twitching.

 _'Baby? BABY_!' William started to hyperventilate, sobs flying from his mouth as panic took over. _'BABY PLEASE, NO_!'

But still, the child didn’t respond.

“Will! Will! Calm down—ERIC! I THINK HE’S GOING INTO SHOCK!” Grell cried out.

William could barely hear the others' voices, his own mind slipping deeper into a state of unconsciousness. His breathing increased, becoming more rapid as he felt his body jerk with effort to stay alive. Someone screamed, and William then felt himself falling further and further down into a black abyss.

* * *

 

It was quiet, completely dark and lonesome. William shivered, trying to see around the blackness. "G-Guten tag? Hello?"

A giggle sounded, and William jumped as he saw the faint outline of a small figure running up to him with outstretched arms and a big smile.

“Mama!” The little figure called out, running as fast as he could with his little toddler-sized legs, “Mama, Mama!”

William, his heart pounding in his chest, knelt down and opened his arms with a sob of relief. "B-Baby?! Alan?!"

The toddler grinned. Messy brown hair, bright reaper-green eyes, and rosy cheeks with his bright smile. He flung himself into William’s arms, “I wuv Mama!”

"Alan..." William enveloped the baby in a tight hug, tears once again rolling down his face. "Oh Alan, oh baby...My little boy... Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

“Owy, Mama, owy.” The little boy pointed at his chest.

"An injury?" William frowned, glancing down at the baby's chest. Immediately, he let out a scream, his eyes wide in horror. Dark, thorny vines covered the skin of he child, pulsating ever so slightly, blacker than coal. "W-What is this..?!"

“Owy.” The boy looked down at it, unsurprised by it, “Sowwy, Mama.”

William shook his head, though still thoroughly disturbed by the appearance of the...thing. Looking down at his son, he planted a kiss on his forehead. "It's alright, little one... Mama just wants you to be safe and healthy..."

He held the little boy close to his chest, only now realizing their lack of clothing. But he brushed it off, too focused on his child. "Mama isn't feeling very well, so I am going to stay here with you for a little bit, alright?"

The boy grinned and hugged William tight. “It be ‘kay, Mama.”

William smiled down at him, starting to walk further into the the darkness. "Mama loves you very much, Alan... you know that, yes?"

“Mama Wuv me?” The boy asked happily, clinging to William as he was carried, “Me wuv mama!”

William kissed the crown of his head, humming an old German lullaby as he walked further on. Something started to glow in the distance, the faint sound of bird chirping and rushing water sounding. William tilted his head, moving closer towards the light.

Slowly, the darkness faded, grass forming under the naked teenager's feet. He paused, blinking against the golden morning sunlight peeking through the branches of tall trees lush with green leaves. A spring was identified as the source of the rushing water and above their heads flew a small flock of robins.

A forest clearing.

“Ah~ Mama!” The baby kicked his legs excitedly, reaching for the clearing full of flowers and other plants.  “Pwitty!” It was clear that the boy loved nature, just as William had thought he might.

William chuckled, carrying the boy over to a small patch, sitting down amongst the daisies and lavender. Setting the little boy down into the flowers, he watched as he toddled off to explore, leaning back on his elbows. "You like the flowers, Alan?"

“Pwitty!” Alan picked one and smelled it before bringing it over to his mother and held it out, “Wike Mama!”

William flushed pink. "... The proper term for me is 'sophisticated', Alan."

“So-sophiecat?”

"Close enough for now... It means 'very polite and educated'." William explained, picking the baby up and resting him against his chest. "Meine kleine Blumenkind."

“…I wike pwitty. It mean pwitty!”

"Pretty for you then." William sighed, running his hand through the boy's soft brown hair. "Do you know what I used to call my Mama when I was a baby?"

“Mama is Mama.” The boy didn’t seem to understand what William was trying to ask him.

"In Germany--where Mama used to live--our word for Mama was 'Mutti'." William explained, cuddling the baby. "Mama means Mutti, and Mutti means Mama."

The boy looked up at his mother with wide, confused eyes.

"I am your Mutti... your Mama."

“…Mama…”

William said nothing more on the subject, instead showering his baby with kisses and cuddles. Smirking, he sat up, blowing a raspberry into Alan's little tummy. "Whose Mama's little boy, hm?"

Alan laughed; the sound pure music to William’s ears as the boy wiggled in his arms.

\--No, not his arms… his belly. The woods faded around William, the toddler disappearing as he found himself laying in a hospital bed, the baby moving inside him, coaxing him awake with little kicks.

"Uhh... Ngh?" William groaned, resting a hand on his stomach whist cracking a tired eye open. "Wha'... Where?"

A white room smelling of sterilizers and chemicals, the scent making the boy gag slightly. A light shone brightly overhead, reflecting straight into his tired eyes, and the faint sound of nature echoed out from a speaker up on the wall. William himself lay--from what he could gather--on a gurney covered with a soft yellow blanket.

“Will! Oh thank Rhea. You’re awake.” Grell’s voice cut in over the sounds of birds and a breeze through trees, “I was so worried!”

"...Grell?" William rasped, his throat suddenly dry and hoarse. "What... happened?"

"Gave us a righ' scare, kid." a voice sounded to his left, startling the pregnant Reaper. Eric sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, burrowed deep into a thick novel of some sort. The mere sight of him, however, made William pale ten shades of white.

"E... Eric... Senpai..?!"

“Shh, calm down. The doctor said you need to be kept calm or you’ll risk the baby. You already nearly lost it.” Grell cooed.

Hearing this, William swallowed, fear overcoming his shock. Forcing himself to calm, as Grell suggested, he glanced down at his belly, resting a hand on the blanket covered bump. "I... I almost lost...?"

"If Grell hadn't come ta me in time, it migh' have been tae late fer yer little one... and ye! Wha' the 'ell were ya thinkin', boy?!"

William flinched, looking down. This was it--his career was over. Eric knew; there was no hiding it now. He waited silently for the man to curse his future, remove him from the Dispatch ranks.

"...I dun know wha' happened... But wha's done is done..." Eric sighed, closing his book. "Yer gonna remain under m' supervision until the baby's birth an' after--Doc ain' gonna let ya stay alone anymore, no' after wha' happened...."

He glanced at William's solemn face. "I ain't gonna mention this... But I need ya ta cooperate with me, understand? No more hidin'. 'S lookin' bad on both our parts."

Grell nodded, “I’d watch you, but I’m a junior same as you. I can’t do much for you. I just wish I knew what happened! The doctors are still trying to figure it out and it’s been three days!”

William turned his head towards him in astonishment. "Three days...?!"  Oh dear Rhea, this would not do at all--with three days wasted, his paperwork should be piled up to the ceiling!

“Eric and I split your work load, and Eric filed a report that you are having health problems. You have been granted leave until you are ‘healthy’ again.” Grell reassured him, “You will not be penalized for this, but you will have to work hard when you come back.”

William could only nod, turning his attention to his son. _'Baby? Are you alright little one?'_

The baby kicked against his hand, letting him know he was still there.

_'Speak to me, little one. Speak to Mama.'_

There was a weak, tired little response echoed back to him as the baby shifted.

William choked, gently stroking the child, coaxing it to rest. " _Oh mein armes Baby..Mama tut es so Leid_..." he sobbed.

“Again with the German.” Grell huffed, leaning back in his seat.

Eric, however, softened his gaze towards the boy, reaching over to stroke the messy dark hair. Since the boy could no longer afford to visit a barber in his condition, he had taken to letting Grell cut his hair. It was something he cringed at, but had no other choice.

Eric shifted, gently and very carefully lifting the ill student up into his arms. William let out a cry of pain, whimpering as Eric settled him against his chest and held him. William shivered, sobbing softly, his hand finding his shirt and grabbing hold of it much like a lost child would.

“What in Styx?! Eric! That’s my man you are snuggling!” Grell protested.

"Quiet you." Eric growled. "'E's emotionally distraught-- wha' 'e jus' said now was 'im blamin' 'imself fer the baby's illness er whatnot."

“What illness? The thing nearly killed him! Little monster probably tried ripping his guts out from the inside!” Grell stood up. He really hated William’s situation. “I’m going back to work!”

"Grell!" Eric called out, scowling as the redhead retreated further down the hall. "Shit..."

* * *

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, William was dismissed from the hospital and placed into Eric's care. The boy was still weak and ill, his recovery going slower than his blond mentor would have liked but sadly nothing could be done to remedy the situation aside from 'TLC' and-more predominantly-rest.

Eric carried him up the stairs to his flat, the boy asleep in his arms. A medical bracelet had been placed on his wrist, monitoring his condition and alerting medical staff if it worsened at any given time. Eric cursed-despite the extra measure taken, he was still worried. He did not want to leave William alone in case something happen.

Tonight was one of those instances. He had been 'blessed' with the unfortunate undertaking of severe overtime and would not be back until morning. Reluctant to leave William alone, he'd asked Grell if he could watch his fellow junior for the night. He could only hope the redhead would comply-the youth had been very bitter since the incident at the hospital.

Unlocking the door to his flat, Eric stepped inside and flicked on the lights. He had a nice quaint home on the 8th floor of his building, overlooking a park and the ocean. It had been a welcome to London gift from an old friend, and Eric was quick to take a liking to its charms-a sitting room at the front, kitchen, a bathroom, bedroom, and spare room he'd turned into a miniature library of sorts. Even the decor was pleasant. Pale yellow walls, dark cherry wood floors and furniture, and a glass wall window displaying his view of the city and ocean.

Carrying William into his bedroom, the decor matching that of the rest of the flat, he got the boy settled into bed and sat down on the edge, waiting-hopefully-for Grell's arrival.

The knock came at last, late for the time Grell was supposed to be there, but before Eric had to give up and leave William alone.

Eric scowled; setting down the book he had been reading and rising to his feet with a groan. Storming over to the door; he opened it with haste. "Yer late." he growled.

"Not my fault." Grell growled, limping in, "Twisted my ankle on a collection. They forced me to go to the infirmary."

Eric frowned, helping the redhead over to a chair in the sitting room. "Wha' did ya do tae get tha'?"

"The records attacked and while avoiding them my foot got caught in the gutter." He sighed, "Very ungraceful."

Eric glanced down at it, tutting. "Gotta be more careful, Sutcliff. One wrong move, an' the records can get inta ye. Wrap 'emselves 'round ye like a snake, enter yer body... Last thin' ye wan' is tae get the Thorns of Death."

"Oh, they get close, but I won't allow such a violation upon my soul!" Grell waved him off, "Besides, there's a treatment for it! If you get to the hospital fast enough Thorns wont latch on. It's only after they latch on that you are fucked!"

"Still, best be careful-even if they flow inta ye fer a millisecond, it can infect ye." Eric grunted, fixing a kettle on the stove for tea. "I'll let ye help yerself-need tae head out now. Spears's asleep in m' room, there's food 'n the icebox if ye need anythin', an' ye know how tae contact me if somethin' comes up."

With that, the Scotsman left, closing the door behind him, the lock clicking shut. From the bedroom, a small whimper arose, William shifting in his sleep with a soft sigh.

Grell sighed, "Just call out if you actually need me. I'm not supposed to use my ankle more than I have to and running here made the pain flair up again!" he called over his shoulder.

William merely moaned again, rolling over onto his side with a smile, comfortable and content in the soft, warm bed. In his sleep, he could hear his son giggling, and pictured him running through the meadow, flowers in hand.

Grell sighed and leaned back, picking up the book Eric had been reading and flipping open to the first chapter. He needed something to do, after all.

Another hour passed before William awoke. Stirring, he groaned as his empty stomach protested. Having not eaten since his awakening at the hospital that morning took its toll on the boy, and in the end his eyes cracked open to greet the light of the setting sun shining through the glass window.

William blinked, frowning in confusion. Sitting up sluggishly, he glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings with curiosity. Hearing a sudden thump and a grumble from down the hall made him jump.

"...G-Guten tag?"

"No German!" Grell huffed, "If you want something, say it like a normal Englishman!"

William relaxed at the sound of Grell's voice, settling back against the pillows. "Oh, it's just you... Where are you?"

"Sitting room. Twisted my ankle at work today, don't want to get up unless I have to. So only ask for something if you really need it, Willy~"

William frowned, struggling to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. "Fine then... I'll come to you."

"No! You need rest the most!" Grell paused, William didn't seem to care much about himself, but, for some reason he cared for the thing growing inside him… "Think of your baby. What would happen if you fell or over-worked yourself too soon?"

"Well, I need food, and with your ankle buggered I can't exactly risk waiting around for _you_ to fall and break yourself, can I?" William grunted, heaving himself off the bed and staggering weakly from the displaced body weight. "Just tell me where you are, and I will come to you. We will figure out... some method of dealing with this."

"William—don't you dare! Eric had me come over to take care of you while he's taking care of overtime! I told you only to get me up when you need something—you need food? I'll get you food. That's a need!" Grell said getting up.

William ignored him, cradling his stomach as he leaned against the wall for support. Slowly, but carefully, he shuffled his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, legs quivering to hold his weight up. It was exhausting-William hadn't felt this out of shape ever in his life. As if someone had sapped all of the energy from his body.

Groaning, he stopped briefly for a moment at the entrance of the sitting room, resting with a sigh against the wall. "Ugh... gottverdammt..."

"You big fat idiot!" Grell scolded, limping over to Will, "Okay, sit down, you're taking the blame when Eric gets upset!"

William snapped his head towards Grell, thoroughly offended. "I am not," he hissed, "fat!"

"You are too! Look at you, Even Eric's shirt is strained over that fat belly!"

William scowled, placing a hand subconsciously on his belly. "Fuck you" he growled. "It's a baby, not fat!"

"A baby is nothing but fat! Have you ever seen one? All fat and chub!"

"You were once 'all fat and chubby' when you were a baby as well, Sutcliff." William crossed his arms with a look. "Babies need the body fat to survive, dummkoff."

"I got my act together and became beautiful." Grell huffed, limping into the kitchen to find what Eric had available for dinner.

William just snorted, waddling his way over to the small table against the wall and taking a seat in one of the three chairs. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sutcliff."

He patted his stomach, gently coaxing the baby awake, speaking softly to him. "Guten tag, little one... Are you hungry?"

' _Mama!_ ' The baby kicked in response.

William chuckled, "I shall take that as a yes."

"Looks like we have… Leftover pasta or…soup." Grell listed. He wasn't going to try cooking. He never touched a kitchen before.

William frowned, glancing up. "That's it? Surely that will not be enough for the two of us..."

"Take it up with Eric. I can't cook so that's what we have for now."

William sighed, heaving out of his seat and lumbering over to the redhead. "Here... show me what he has in the cupboard."

"Will—sit down!" Grell scolded.

"Sutcliff, I am fine!" William protested. "I am not putting stress on the baby, I am merely standing."

"Doctor said rest and resting means sit that tight little ass of yours down!" Grell snapped.

"I have been resting! Standing up for a couple of minutes won't kill me!" William snapped, trying to look intimidating as he could in only Eric's oversized shirt and a pair of briefs. It wasn't much help that his hairless legs were shivering from the chill in the air and the shirt came up a bit at the back from being stretched over his pregnant stomach, display his pert and tight rear.

"Sit down, Will! I won't see you hurt again on my watch!" Grell insisted, "I care about you—let me take care of you."

"But you are injured yourself!" William exclaimed, gesturing to the man's ankle. "The way you are holding yourself-your ankle in horrible shape! You're the one who should be resting!"

"I twisted my ankle. It's sore and swollen. That's it. You—you are in a complicated pregnancy! I came home to find you in a pool of blood on your bed! Not just a little, Will, enough to put you and the baby at risk!"

William opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, pinching the bridge of his nose with a frustrated sign. "... Why don't we just order something?"

"If that's what it takes for you to stop being stupid." Grell sighed.

William nodded, waddling away into the living room and settling down on the chesterfield. The plush dark leather was comfortable under his heavy body, and he let out a relaxed sigh of contentment. "Grell... Do you think you could pass me a book? I want to read to Alan."

"There's one next to you." Grell said, picking up the phone and dialing in the number to order them food from one of William's favorite take-out places.

William glanced to his left, seeing a small pile of books on the side table. Grunting, he leaned over, snagging the first one he could reach, and pulled back to read the cover.

"...I had no idea Eric was interested in men..."

"Really? Yeah, he's bisexual." Grell shrugged, "Though he tends to lean towards women."

"Still... I'd rather not read an erotica novel to my baby..." William muttered, replacing the book and picking up another. "'The Language of the Flowers'... Hm."

"…Leave it to you to read an educational text to your unborn child—Oh, yes, Hello, I'd like to place a delivery order…" Grell said, turning his attention to putting in their order for food.

William waved him off, opening the book and starting to read a small portion to his son, his voice softening a touch.

Alan started to move excitedly, as if he was dancing as he listened to his mother's voice talking about flowers.

William paused in his reading to stroke his belly, humming quietly to the baby to settle him. Hearing Grell hang up the phone, he turned his head and looked over the back of the couch, blinking curiously at the redhead. "What did you get?"

"Your usual, my usual, and a few extra orders of chips since you probably would want more."

William allowed the redhead a small smirk, turning back to his book. "You know me too well, Sutcliff."

"You shouldn't be surprised." Grell said, sitting down next to him and curling up against his side, red head on Will's shoulder.

For once, William did not react aside from a small grunt to acknowledge the man's presence, focused more on the book about flowers. "No...I suppose I should not be."

He smiled, the gesture becoming more common for the teen. "It's strange... I've never felt this happy... Why am I so happy about all this?"

"You've lost your mind…" Grell mumbled.

"Oh hush, you." William murmured, his own head resting against the redhead's unconsciously as he stroked the spot where the child was kicking. Then he frowned, lifting his head off Grell's to look at him. Reaching up, he pushed back the older boy's bangs, resting a palm on his forehead.

"…What are you doing?" Grell frowned. It always made him take pause when William wasn't pushing him away.

"...You have a fever!" William remarked. "Not a small one, either."

"No I don't. I feel fine."

"You are burning." William shook his head and sighed. "Honestly... Have I not said to take better care of yourself?"

"Really, Will, I'm perfectly fine apart from my ankle."

William frowned but said nothing more, deciding to let Sutcliff suffer if he wanted to be that stubborn. The next forty five minutes continued in silence, William burrowed deep in his book and Grell resting comfortably against him, reading over his shoulder sneakily. When the food finally arrived, William was more eager than a dog at breakfast, practically fidgeting in his seat while Grell answered the door.

Only five minutes later, he was finishing up the last of the wurst and chips-ignoring the way Grell stared at him while he ate the sausage- William was finally satiated. He leaned back against the couch with a comfortable sigh when it happened. First a small pop, then a dozen, the boy's eyes going wide as the button of his strained shirt finally gave away and flew off across the room.

"Not fat, hu?" Grell laughed.

"Shut up!" William snapped, his face red with embarrassment. Cursing in German, he struggled to cover his stomach with his shirt, an attempt of which quickly proved to be futile. "Baby, why did you do that?"

There was an echoed giggle and the baby kicked his mother's hand resting on his stomach.

William groaned, leaning back in his seat. "I have to pay Eric for a new shirt now..."

"Or just pick up the buttons and sew them back on." Grell said, rolling his eyes.

"That takes effort." William grumbled, but struggled to heave himself off the couch. Only to be faced with a new problem. "...I'm stuck..."

"Good. Stops you from doing something stupid." Grell sighed, moving down to use Will's lap as a pillow, "You should fix the buttons. You have nothing else to do all day every day as it is. And your funds are even more limited right now. Junior reapers don't get paid medical leave."

"Do not remind me... I wish I was still allowed to work." William complained, though he smirked when the baby began kicking at Grell's cheek. "My day is not exactly entertaining. Mostly sleep."

"Stop that." Grell pressed a finger to the spot where Alan was kicking. "Keep kicking my face and I'll bite your feet off when you are out of my Willy."

Grell's threat earned him a harder kick to the cheek.

"Why you sassy little parasite! What did I just say?!"

William chuckled, feeling his son kick Grell lower, hitting his jaw.

"Don't encourage it!"

"The only one who is encouraging him is you, Grell." William smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Just show him a bit of love and he will quiet."

"I'm not his father." Grell huffed, "I don't have to show him love. I don't coo over fat bellies."

"Well, you'd be the closest thing he has to one!" William snapped without thinking, his hormones getting the better of him. The minute he said it, he clamped up, face pink and eyes wide in horror.

Grell pushed himself up, "I never volunteered to be the brat's father! So don't fucking push it off on me if you won't even consider retuning my feelings for you, git!" he pushed himself up and limp-marched out of the sitting room to hide out in the spare room.

"Grell, wait-!" William called out as the redhead left, leaving him alone on the couch to mutter the next few words to himself. "I didn't... mean it like that..."

He shuddered, feeling his eyes water and his throat clog and cursed. No, not now! A sob escaped him, tears spilling from his eyes down his face, his hand flying up to his mouth in attempt to stifle the noise.

' _Mama?_ ' The baby mentally asked if his mother was alright. He didn't like feeling his mama be sad.

William shivered, crying softly as he tried to reassure his baby. _'I-It's alright little one... Mama is fine_.'

* * *

 

Eric yawned, trudging tiredly up the stairs, his briefcase tucked under one arm. Overtime had been hell, and he ended up leaving half an hour later than he should have, but now he was home and could only hope that nothing had happened during the night. Stumbling over to his front door, he groaned at the sudden realization that his girlfriend would be expecting him that night-he might just call it off. William was already a handful, but now he was worried about the boy's redheaded friend. The ankle was worse than he'd anticipated, from what the hospital had told him at least-he'd gone midway through his shift to pick up William's medication files (and partially to ensure that the two juniors didn't land themselves in the infirmary in his absence).

Unlocking the door, he slipped inside, closing it with a click behind him.

"Sutcliff? Spears? 'M back..."

Nothing-not a sound or sight of the two boys. Eric frowned, setting his briefcase down by the door before venturing off into the flat to look for the two. He found William easily, curled up in bed cuddling his stomach. Yet upon closer inspection, the man frowned, noticing the odd appearance of tear tracks down the lad's face. Almost as if he had been crying more than he ought to have been...

Pulling out of the room, Eric glanced down the hall, wondering where the other boy could have gotten to.

In the spare room, Grell was found sprawled across the floor face-down. Beside him a few books that had fallen from the shelves as if he'd been searching for something to read when he collapsed. His skin burning up.

Eric had frowned, coming into the spare room after thoroughly searching the rest of the flat. Upon seeing Grell, the man went pale and rushed to the boy's side. "Shit!" he swore, feeling the hot skin beneath his glove. "Goddammit, fuck!"

Carefully lifting the boy into his arms, he rushed to the phone, putting in a word for a doctor before carrying the teen to the bathroom. Running a cool bath, he worked fast to strip the redhead and settle him into the water, desperate to bring his temperature down.

"Goddammit, Red, wha' happened...!"

"Mmh…" Grell groaned, his head lulling as the cold water flowed deeper around him from the tap. Delirious, he was unaware that it was Eric at his side, "Will…why won't you kiss me..?"

Eric frowned slightly, but said nothing, instead tapping his fingers along the edge of the tub. A thump made him jump, and he turned around just in time to see William entering the bathroom, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Spears!" Eric leapt to his feet, rushing over to the boy. "Whadya doin'?! Yer no' supposed ta be outta bed on yer own. 'Ere, lemme help ye back tae be-"

"You're as bad as Grell…don't worry, I just need to use the toilet for a moment then I'll go back to—" William cut himself off, his tired eyes widening at the sight of Grell in the tub. "Grell! What happened?!"

Eric sighed, glancing back at the redhead, his grip loosening on the other boy's shoulders. "I dun know... I jus' found 'im like this passed out on the floor."

"Grell—I told you, you felt hot!" William scolded, though more gently than he normally did as he hurried to the tub and grabbed up a cloth, dipping it in the cold water and placing it on Grell's forehead.

Eric watched him for a moment, silently creeping over to the junior and settling down beside him. He watched as William tenderly-almost maternally- began scooping cold water onto the boy's flushed skin with his hand, the other resting on the side of the tub. The scene would have brought about a small smile to his lips had the situation not been as dire. Shaking his head with a sigh at the thought, Eric turned back to monitor Grell's temperature. "Was 'e this warm las' nigh'?"

"Before we had a fight he was burning up but not this bad… and he insisted he was fine…" William muttered.

"A fight?" Eric frowned, glancing over at the boy in confusion prior to putting the pieces together. "Ahhh... So tha's why..."

He scowled down at the water-part of him wondered what they had been fighting about, but he felt as if he already knew. Looking over at William, he decided to get a proper answer out of the boy-he himself was internally curious about their relationship, to be quite frank. It confused him too much for comfort. "Can I ask ye somethin'? Wha' is this between ye an' Sutcliff? One minute yer friends... next yer a' each other's throats."

William was silent for a moment, simply working to cool Sutcliff down, "…I'm not sure." He admitted at last, "At first, he hated me. He hated everything about me. My habits, my grades, my…style." He sighed, "But then, right before we were due to start our final exam collection, we got into a disagreement over the case of our target. He wanted to make the wrong call, and I told him we need to follow the rules. He thought that my grades were a reflection on my skills and thought as he was an AAA student, and I was only a B student that he could win the disagreement by force. He had attacked me before while on the assignment, but I saw no need to engage. However, this would affect our graduation and I couldn't have it so I fought back and took him by surprise. I won the miniature battle and left to start reaping our target."

William took a moment to adjust his glasses which had started to slide down his nose, "From that moment on, he has been…infatuated with me. He insists upon hanging off of me and calling me ridiculous pet names. He obsessingly insists upon referring to me as being his man, even after I have expressed a great many times that I am not his, nor do I intend to be. However…"

The boy looked at Grell and reached out to move a lock of damp red hair out of his face, "I do not hate him. He simply annoys me. Maybe the best word for us would be… 'friends'. At least, I believe he is the closest to one than I have ever had before."

"Makes sense." Eric nodded, giving a small chuckle. "Yer a good kid, Spears... Even if ye are a 'dullard'." He reached over, ruffling the boy's messy hair, smirking at the disproving look sent his way. Turning back to Grell, his smile fell from his face. "Although... I will say tha' Sutcliff didnae have a good family life... even t'day."

"His family?" William frowned, "He never mentioned he even had one. I assumed he was like me…"

"Well...I know both o' ye had troubled upbringin's. But while ye were alone... Grell's family was there an' no' in a good way."

William frowned, glancing at Grell. "My Great Aunt…I saw her maybe once every few months if I was lucky. Ever since I was ten. She dropped off money for me until her next visit. That was the extent of her raising me… I can't imagine any sort of family."

He looked down at his belly and touched it, "I want to be a proper mother to my son… I want him to have a better childhood than mine was."

Eric glanced at him, smiling as he rested his hands on William's belly. He didn't say anything, not wanting to voice reality to the boy or give him false hope. "Baby been okay fer ye?"

"He's been…" William smiled as he took pause, "Amazing. My amazing little boy."

Eric chuckled, grinning as he felt the child kick against his hands. "'Ey, baby... Been good fer yer Mama?"

The baby seemed to grow excited at the touch of someone new, pressing against the large hand, a happy gurgling sound sounding in William's mind.

William smiled a little wider, "He likes you."

"Wha's no' tae like?" Eric teased, tickling the spot where he felt a tiny foot. "Cutie...Glad tae see yer both doin' better..."

Yet even as he spoke, playing with the ecstatic unborn baby, his expression sobered. "Grell... never got this love from 'is own mother 'r father. 'E was an accident... an' by the time 'e was born, 'is parents already despised 'is existence. His childhood was rough. Pampered siblings but getting nothin' 'imself. Watchin' 'is mother read stories tae 'is siblings an' kiss 'em goodnigh', but getting shoved away an' scorned when 'e wanted the same. Beaten by 'is father...because o' how 'e looked..."

Eric gestured to the boy, more precisely his teeth. "Genetic mutation... because o' tha', 'is family considered 'im a curse."

William frowned and looked at Grell. Perhaps that was why he seemed so desperate for someone to love him. And why he never seemed to know how to show his affection or receive it. He was so pushy about it…

William felt sorry for him, yet, he couldn't do much. He didn't love Grell the way the redhead wanted him to. And he couldn't change that. It'd be cruel to them both to fake it, as well.

He sighed and touched Grell's cheek, "I hope you find the one who will love you the way you deserve, Grell… And I'm sorry that person isn't me like you want it to be…"

Eric watched them for a moment, his eyes flickering slightly as Grell stirred. Sighing, he grabbed a counter sitting off to the side, standing up. "Go use the loo, I'm gonna get 'im out... Doctor should be 'er soon..."

He glanced at his watch. "I'll have tae call Lisa..."

"Lisa? Do you often make plans with her this late at night?" William frowned, pushing himself up slowly so that he could do his business.

"Originally... Though I fergot t' be honest. I saw 'er two days ago, so it shouldn' matter, but..." Eric sighed, taking Grell into his arms and lifting him from the tub. "She's been gettin' a bit over th' top tae be honest. But I cannot leave ye an' Grell alone today-not with poor Grell this ill an' ye bein' in a risky pregnancy."

"Why do you care so much about us? Shouldn't she be more important?"

"Yer both m' first priority righ' now... I cannot abandon ye jus' fer 'er at every turn." Eric wrapped the towel around Grell, starting to dry the shivering redhead off. "As a teacher an' a senior Reaper, I need tae look after ye."

William frowned but said nothing more. Eric dried Grell off and dressed him in one of his spare shirts, letting him take up the other half of the bed next to William.

* * *

 

William rolled over silently, watching Grell's sleeping face. The doctor had still yet to come and already the older boy was looking feverish once again. Frowning, William reached out, brushing a few bangs from Grell's face. Eric had long since left the room to make another phone call, and William could faintly hear him lecturing the medical staff on their timing.

William heard Eric finally hang up with a huff, and as he did, suddenly there was a shrill ring from the phone.

Eric groaned, already knowing who was on the other end as he reluctantly picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"You stood me up!" a female voice snapped, "I was standing outside the restaurant until it closed! Do you know how long that was? Do you? Seven hours, Eric, _seven_!"

"I...Wha'?!" Eric frowned, his brow furrowing. "Lisa, I was supposed tae meet ye t'nigh'... I had overtime yesterday, I told ye tha'!"

"No, you didn't! You forgot me again. You have been forgetting me constantly and I'm sick of it!"

"I haven't! Lisa, I saw ye two days ago! I also told ye tha' same nigh' I had overtime t'day, and I called ye again yesterday mornin' t' tell ye!"

"That wasn't this week, Eric!" She snapped, "And I am not just talking about this week. The last month you have been acting like—like you want to break it off."

Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lisa had been overreacting for the last couple of weeks, getting overly jealous and clingy. She knew damn well that he'd told her he had overtime plus more work due to William's 'illness'.

"Lisa, ye know tha's not true-I love ye, ye know tha'."

"You never show it anymore." She huffed.

"Look, Lisa, 'm sorry I haven' had time lately-Will's been extremely ill an' there is no way 'e can work in 'is condition. Poor kid almost died the other day!"

"He's only your responsibility during working hours when he's with you!"

"'E's m' responsibility if 'is life is in danger as 'is mentor!" Eric defended. "I can't leave a child t' die, especially not one in m' care!"

"What about his family? They should be taking care of him, not you. I miss you, Eric!"

"'E has no family!" Eric blurted out, then sobered. "I miss ye, too... But ye gotta understand-I told ye this would likely happen when I took the job a' the school..."

"…What do you mean he has 'no family'? Only privileged kids get a chance at going to the academy for the high-paying jobs like Dispatch!"

"'E was a transfer from Germany." Eric sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Poor kid only has an aunt 'r somethin' back in Berlin. She ain' even there most o' the time. Jus' give 'im money. Never has had a real mother 'r father."

"So… You decide to play 'daddy' with him? Why? Is it because you know what it's like moving from your own country to England?"

"'M not playin' 'Daddy'." Eric scowled. "Kid jus' needs someone t' show the way until 'e's old enough!"

"Coulda fooled me, Daddy." She sighed.

"Lisa, why are ye actin' like this?" Eric shook his head. "It's jus' until 'e's better."

"He's not your girlfriend, Eric—I am! This shouldn't be cutting into our time together."

Eric repressed a growl of irritation, rising from his seat to check on William. Wandering down the hall, he quietly pushed open the door to his bedroom, William quickly faking sleep the moment he entered. Eric ran his free hand through his hair trekking over to the sunlit bed and sitting down on the edge. He smiled down at William's peaceful face, then Grell who had his mouth open slightly like a fly trap.

"Lisa, I see ye every other day-I hardly count tha' as cuttin' into our time t'gether."

"Liar."

Now Eric was growing frusterated. "Lisa, dun be like tha', please!"

"Say what you want to make you feel better—you still stood me up!"

"Lisa, dun give me tha' bullshit." Eric growled. "I didnae stand ye up because, first off, ye never told me ye wanted t' meet earlier. Dun lie tha' ye did, I checked all m' messages an' mail, nothin'. Secondly, we weren' even supposed t' meet a' a resturant, we were gonna meet a' the library."

"These were changed plans. A rain check from last time you had overtime!" she huffed, "You just forgot."

"I did no' ferget... Yer jus' playin' games now." Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lisa, look, I gotta go, I'll talk t-"

Suddenly, a hand shot up, grabbing the phone from Eric and soon it was pressed to Grell's ear, his irritated tone snapping, "Rhea you're annoying! Stop being so clingy and let Eric be the good mentor he is to my Willy! Shut up and go get a facial or something relaxing like that! Maybe they can get the stick outa your arse!" Grell said before hanging up and dropping the phone to snuggle up against William.

William let out an audible moan, having truly drifted during Eric's talk, trying to roll over to snuggle against his friend. But his belly prevented him from fully cuddling, and he let out a small whine, Eric paling as he picked up the phone in the process. "Lisa...?"

But there was no answer. The call ended.

Eric sighed, setting the phone aside on the nightstand, covering his face with his hands and groaning. "Dammit..."

Hearing Grell moan again and William whimper, he turned his head to glance at the two of them.

Grell seemed to have fallen back to sleep, his cheek on William's arm as he snuggled closer.

* * *

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

William settled back against the pillows with a sigh, glancing wearisomely at his belly. Another month had come and gone, almost too soon for the boy's liking, and the tension was greater than ever for the expectant mother. William was anxious, nervously counting down the days until the due date, each passing moment bringing more worries and fears over his state. What if something went wrong? What if the baby was a stillborn? William shuddered; the thought alone was unbearable. To come this far only to fail his son-he shaln't dream of such at thing! He couldn't, lest he lose all hope in himself and the baby.

Along with the stress came the final stage of growth for the baby, leaving his poor mother weary and lethargic. Eric, concerned with William's lack of energy, put the boy on permanent supervised bed rest until the birth, not wanting to risk anything happening now that the final stretch was almost through.

William, however, was bored. His life had become nothing more than a world of pale yellow walls and cherry wood furniture, with only the wall window providing a means of outside entertainment. At most, all he got, however, were a few birds-the boy had recently been bestowed with a small group of pigeons, who would sit by the window daily to watch him with peaked interested. William grew fond of the little creatures, even going as far as to affectionately name them much to his mentor's dismay.

At night, when the birds flew off to their nests and Eric was home and minding his own business in the other room, William took to reading. Eric was a bookkeeper at heart, and his supply was thankfully endless. From history to older mythology from the Medieval times, William had a wide variety of literature to choose from. To be very frank, he was half certain Eric only gave him these particular books to read instead of the boy's normal genre because the man was convinced that William was a lazy dullard with little intellect. The thought alone infuriated him, but as time went on, he found himself armored with the stories embedded between yellowed pages with faded ink.

He read for hours, either silently or out loud, but always to Alan. His little darling was growing stronger by the day, and William was going to make damn sure his baby was at least educated before he entered the world (a task both Eric and Grell shook their heads at and labeled him as an 'idiot' for). William had even started to read in German, to engrave his mother tongue into the child as it had been for him.

It had been the very task he'd been engrossed in that particular night, reading through a thick novel filled with a vast Berlin vocabulary. However, that night he struggled to barely get past a quarter of the book, the baby rather fidgety and restless. Eric snored beside him, exhausted from an all-nighter the day before, obliviously unaware of the boy's frustration.

"Gottverdammt, Alan, not tonight..." William muttered, shushing and cooing softly at the child in a vain attempt to get him settled. Frowning, he glanced over at the side table, seeing a big dark teal teddy bear with a floral pattern sitting lonesome. "Do you want your bear?"

The baby didn't respond; instead William felt a strange popping feeling inside, nearly able to hear it in his mind before a rush of water gushed out onto the bed from between his legs.

At once, William's eyes widened, his book falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. Staring down at his belly, he let out a loud gasp and cringed as a sharp pain struck his lower abdomen. "Shit!" he hissed, doubling over and clutching tightly at his stomach. "Dammit, fuck!"

Eric grunted, rolling over onto his back, unaware of the wetness seeping onto his side of the bed. William, panted, slowly bearing through the agony until the contraction finally faded, leaving only a dull throb. His heart hammered in his chest, the reality of his situation suddenly becoming all to clear. Biting his lip, he shifted his heavy body, resting a hand on Eric's shoulder, shaking it.

The man grunted again, growling slightly as he was finally roused from sleep, an irritated expression upon his tired face. His eyes found William and he scowled, pulling up into a sitting position to lecture the boy. Then he stopped, feeling wetness against his leg and taking in the teen's pained expression.

"SHIT! NOW?! WHY DIDN' YE WAKE ME UP SOONER?!" the Scotsman roared, scrambling to untangle himself from the covers. William huffed, about to reprimand his mentor, when another contraction struck and replaced any words with a loud shriek. Eric jumped, swearing loudly as he struggled out of his night clothes and into his work trousers.

"FUCK, FUCK, DAMMIT, FUCK!"

Eric rushed to get himself dressed decent enough to get William to the hospital, in his panic, forgetting about phoning the doctor.

* * *

It was late, but Grell didn't care. He missed his room mate, and he wanted to check on him. As an excuse, he picked up William's pregnancy vitamins from the hospital and hurried over to Eric's apartment, loudly knocking on the door.

Eric froze, tripping as his legs got caught in his pants. Yanking them up painfully, he stumbled out of the room, cursing loudly. "WHO THE FUCK COMES A' THIS HOUR?!"

Wrenching open the door, he opened his mouth to lecture the person on the other end, only to stop short at the sight of Grell. He closed his mouth, opened it again a second later, then frozen as another scream echoed across the apartment.

Grell blinked and slowly leaned to the side to peer around Eric into the impressive apartment. He blinked a few more times before opening his mouth, "Senpai…what are you doing to my Willy?!" he gasped.

"I ain' doin' nothin!" Eric snapped, glaring down at the boy. "William's in labor, an' I gotta get 'im tae medical care."

Grell stiffened, dropping the small white bag containing the bottle of pills for William. "What—do you mean he's in labor? He can't be! It—it's only been nine months! I'm not ready for him to have the little beast on his hip!" Grell cried out, straightening up and looking wide-eyed at Eric.

"Nine months is the limit, Grell!" Eric growled, turning back down the hall towards the bedroom.

William was leaning back against the headboard, his legs tucked up and spread and his skin drenched in sweat. Upon seeing Eric, he opened his mouth to speak, most likely scold the Scotsman, but was cut off as another contraction rippled through his body. "GOTTVERDAMMT!"

Eric paled, slowing at about a foot away from the bed, eyeing the laboring teenager anxiously. There was no sign of blood, but Eric still worried. He contemplated getting his shirt but decided against it a second later when William reached for his hand-there was no time!

Putting on a calm facade, he neared the boy and spoke in a soothing voice, hoping that his tone and words would-temporarily-be enough to ease the boy's panic. "Will... Will, look a' me..."

William swallowed, breathing hard past the pain, unable to focus.

Grell cautiously followed, his gaze glued to William. All of a sudden he felt faint, which was an entirely new feeling to him. He was always so strong. Blood was even enjoyable to him, so why the hell was the sight of William in labor making him queasy?

Babies… it had to be the baby. Rhea, he hated the creatures.

William bit his lip, barely muffling his scream of agony, toes curling up and fingers clenching his stomach. Eric ignored the stress, continuing to coax the boy until he was able to slip an arm under his legs and back, hoisting him up. Without another word to Grell, he took off like a bullet, wearing only his pants and shoes, mind set on making a beeline for the hospital. At some point, William must have looked over his shoulder, for the faint scream of "GRELL!" and an outstretched hand could be witnessed before the man disappeared out the door.

Grell stood stunned, blinking at the empty bed before he swore, "Hades damned!" he turned and hurried to follow behind them. Why did William have to go and do that? Call out to him like he was needed and _wanted_?

By the time the redhead had caught up with the duo, Eric was already eight floors below on the ground floor, out on the street corner calling for a carriage. In his arms, William sobbed a storm, clutching tightly at his belly with one hand, the other clinging to Eric's bare shoulder for support. Passers-by stared, some even asking the blond if he needed help calling for medical assistance.

"I don't like this… I don't like this at all. Stupid untouchable idiot who did this to Willy!" Grumbled Grell as he waited behind Eric as a cab finally pulled up and the cab driver got out and opened the door for them.

"Grell..." William's voice floated up over Eric's shoulder, the boy's hand searching for the redhead. "Grell!"

Eric slipped in first, waiting until Grell was in beside him before settling William upon their laps, the boy's head resting on Grell's legs. Commanding the driver to take them straight to the infirmary with haste, he gently began to massage one of William's legs, trying to ease the pain. "There... C'mon, Spears, yer doin' amazin'. Jus' breathe, in an' out."

Grell held his tongue. If he spoke, he knew that he'd likely say something that'd upset William. Like how the baby obviously didn't love him if he was causing William so much pain. So he simply took William's hand and looked out the window at the city as it passed by.

* * *

The carriage arrived at the hospital twenty minute later; William quickly rushed onto a stretcher and inside. The situation had become much more serious; the baby found crowning already between the teenager's legs. William screamed and sobbed, extremely unhappy with all these strange people around him, touching and prodding him.

A nurse coached William through birthing, making sure he remembered to breathe properly as he pushed. Within twenty minuets of hard work and pain, the pain stopped and the cry of a baby filled the delivery room.

Baby Alan wailed out with strong lungs at the cold air and the latex-gloved hands handling him while he was carried from the world he knew inside his mother and to a shallow tub of warm water to me cleaned. He didn't like it. Where was his Mama? He couldn't feel his thoughts and love surrounding him!

Finally clean, weighed, and wrapped snuggly in a nice new blue blanket, he was brought over and handed to his exhausted mother.

William panted, falling back against the pillows with a whimper. His body throbbed and his mind was foggy, but the sound of his son crying brought the tiniest of smiles to his lips. Struggling to lift his head, he almost gasped as the newborn baby boy was passed down to him, nestling almost perfectly into his arms.

"Alan... Guten tag..." he whispered, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he kissed the child tenderly on the head. "Shhhh... Mutti is here..."

The baby's crying slowed to a hiccup. There he was. There was his mama. Mama was here with him. He wasn't alone in this big new world. "Ahh!" He greeted his mother. His face supporting a big toothless smile.

He was perfect. Fair skin, soft fuzzy brown hair not quite as dark as William's, rosy cheeks.

"Mister Spears… for the birth certificate… what's his name?" asked one of the nurses.

"...Alan. Alan Spears." William said, his voice barely a murmur, all attention devoted to his new baby. "My little sweet baby boy..."

"Any middle name?" she asked, jotting down the first and last.

"Thomas." William cooed, nuzzling his giggling son's nose.

"Alan Thomas Spears." The nurse nodded as she made up the notes. "Alright, I'll have his papers written up and officialized." She said before walking out.

"Congratulations, Mister Spears." The doctor smiled, "Would you like me to let in Mister Slingby and Mister Sutcliff?"

William nodded, rocking little Alan comfortably in his arms. Eric was brought in alongside Grell a couple of minutes later, the blond man making a beeline past the nurse to William's bedside. Upon seeing the tiny bundle nestled in the boy's arms, he slowed, a smile growing across his face.

The baby was making adorable little suckling noises, his tiny thumb popped into his mouth as he rested comfortably in William's arms. Bright green and gold eyes cracked open, looking up at the new mother for the first time.

"Nine moths of torture—for that?" Grell muttered, looking at Alan. "Not very smart. It's trying to eat itself."

"He's suckin' his thumb, Sutcliff." Eric stated with a roll of his eyes, smiling down at the newborn and kneeling to eye level. "'Ey, little guy..."

Alan blinked and focused on Eric, staring at the new face for a long moment before giggling and smiling as he reached out to try and touch Eric's nose. "Ahhh!"

Eric grinned, reaching out with a finger to touch the baby's tiny hand, chuckling when the little fingers curled around the much larger digit. "Cute little bugger, ye are..."

William sniffled, tears falling from his eyes as a proud look graced his face. "My perfect son..."

* * *

The doors to the hospital opened up and a tall, intimidating figure marched in. A long silver ponytail flowing behind him as he moved to the nurses' station. The legendary reaper was not without his contacts. He had eyes and ears all over Reaper London – including the hospital. He'd sent word to his spy to keep an eye out for William Spears, and when he heard news that the baby was born, he knew it was time to act.

It was cruel, he knew that, but it was what was best for both he and young William. Young reapers couldn't handle the demand of the job and the demand of a child at the same time. Especially a single parent. And he had no intention of being a father to the mistake of a drunken one-night-stand.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, are those the papers for young Spears' newborn?" he asked.

The nurse looked up at him with wide eyes. "Y-yes…"

"Excellent. I'll be needing those." He said, taking them and scanning them over. The line for the father had been left blank. Good. That made this a little easier.

"I'm afraid Mister Spears is not fit to raise his child." He stated, behind him a team of Reaper officials filed in. "This is an order of the High Council, I'm afraid. Please escort these men to Spears' room; I have a few changes that will have to be made to these."

He moved around to sit down at the nurses' station, pulling from his pocket an official reaper pen that could make official changes to any legal document or the life-books of mortals in the Library. With it, he crossed out the last name of 'Spears' and paused, thinking and tapping his lip with the pen a moment before writing in the name 'Humphries'. The ink changed the page after a moment. 'Spears' fading out and 'Humphries' shifting into its proper place. The name change was needed. William needed to be cut off from the child. He didn't like doing it, but Dispatch also couldn't lose a young reaper with all the potential William had. He'd messed the boy's life up, and he had to be the one to fix it—secretly. William would never know he had anything to do with it. He then crossed out William's name on the mother's name line and waited for it to fade out. Satisfied, he marked the papers for the boy to be sent to the Reaper London Orphanage and then handed them over to a nurse so that they'd be properly put on record. Then he left quickly, not wanting to be there when the baby—Alan, as he'd been named—was taken from his mother's arms the day of his birth.

Oh, how cruel he had to be.

"I'm sorry, Spears…" He muttered as he disappeared into the night.

* * *

William snuggled his little baby, relishing in his happy cooes and giggles. His baby-he could hardly wait to start his life with Alan. To think he had not wanted the little treasure before; Rhea, he had been out of his mind. "There, there... Mutti's got you."

Eric had left half an hour earlier on account of suddenly being called out. It was a bit odd, seeing as the man had been working twenty-four hours beforehand, but orders were orders.

"Mister Spears." A gruff voice stated with authority as five uniformed men entered through the open door, "General Woods of the Department of Reaper Law Enforcement. I'm afraid that we need you to hand over the child by order of the High Council." He stated, holding out a rolled paper with the official order upon it for proof.

William froze, the words almost making his heart stop. "I... I beg your parodn?" he gasped, looking wide eyed at the man.

"You have been deemed unfit to raise a child." The man repeated, unrolling the order, "Between your age, your career, and the fact that there is no father in sight to help care for the child properly. These are some of the reasons we must do this. I'm sorry, Mister Spears, but we are only following our orders."

"Well!" Grell stood up. He was in the corner of the room flipping through a magazine, "I can't say this is surprising. I did warn Willy this could happen—but the baby just got here! You could at least have given him more time with the little blob!"

"I'm sorry, and who are you?" Woods asked.

"Grell Sutcliff. I'm Willy's roommate!"

"Are you the father?"

"No."

"Then stay out of this." Woods sighed and turned back to William, "The longer we allow you to hold your child, the more painful it will be for you when we leave. This is why we must do this unpleasant exchange now. It's for your own good, Mister Spears."

He held out his arms, waiting to have Alan slipped into them. "I assure you he will be taken good care of by the government or a good adopting family."

But William narrowed his eyes, clutching the baby closer to his chest. "Nein..." he hissed.

"Don't fight us on this, Mister Spears." Woods shook his head, "You can't keep the child."

Alan didn't like the tone in his mother's voice and the sudden possessive way he was being held, and he began to whimper, shifting in his blanket. "Mmm!"

William growled, narrowing his eyes at the man, refusing to let his baby go. If these men thought they could simply waltz up to him and demand he hand over his son, they had another thing coming. Alan was his-he wasn't going anywhere!

"NEIN!"

"Mister Spears. It'll happen whether you want it to or not. Don't make a scene. You may only cause the baby to get hurt if you make me take him from you like this."

"Sie sind nicht nahm ihn von mir!" William shouted, his mother tongue spilling instinctively from his mouth.

"Mister Spears, be reasonable."

"Will." Grell walked over and sat down next to William, reaching out to touch his shoulder, "Darling, look at me and try to speak English again?"

But William ignored the redhead, continuing to glare at the man and cuddle his precious baby close.

"Will." Grell tried again, "How about you give me Alan?" he offered gently. Hoping that it'd be easier for the boy to hand his son off to someone he knew rather than these strangers. Even if William wouldn't forgive him when he turned and handed the baby over to the men.

"Nein." William replied stubbornly, knowing fully well what would happen if he handed the child off to the redhead. Grell hated the baby-he wasn't stupid.

"William, stop being such a baby about this! You aren't going to win. It's been ordered by the bloody council! Take it up with them if you have to but you are just embarrassing yourself!" Grell snapped. "Grow up." He got up and left, slamming the door behind him and leaving William, the men, and the baby alone.

Now alone, William scrunched up his body, kissing Alan's tiny head in reassurance. He contemplated porting out of the room, but with the way his energy was sapped and Alan being a newborn, it was simply too dangerous.

"Mister Spears, you need to hand over the baby." Woods repeated, this time with warning in his tone.

William bit his lip and shook his head, tearfully glancing down at his son. Not him, not his little boy. He just got here... It wasn't fair...

"I know this is hard for you." Woods tried soothing again, "And maybe you can fight to regain custody of your child."

"But...but...!" William choked, tears starting to fall. "No...!"

"I'm only doing what I have been ordered to do. This is beyond my control, but I can promise that no harm will come to your child."

Still, as if sensing what would come next, Will resisted and rolled over onto his side, trying to shield his baby from the men. He cuddled Alan, whispering soft words of love and comfort, cradling his tiny body.

"Mister Spears." Woods sighed, looking at his men. They didn't often have cases where they had to take a newborn from its mother, but it did happen and was often difficult. It was why he'd brought four of his men. He didn't want to have to give them the order, but he would if William didn't comply soon. "Please, I don't want to have to use force."

"My baby! Leave us alone!" William sobbed. It was clear he would not give in without a fight.

Woods sighed and gave a nod, permitting his men to make their move.

"Then I am sorry for this." He said as two of the men flanked the bed and grabbed his arms. The other two standing by in case they needed to help restrain William as Woods reached forward, taking Alan as gently as he could with the way the new mother was holding him.

Alan started to full-out wail; his cries loud. He was scared. He didn't know what was happening.

William struggled, shrieking loudly in unison amongst his poor helpless baby's cries, trying to break free. "NO! GIVE MY SON BACK!" he screamed, withering hard against the men's hold. "MY BABY! GIVE ALAN BACK! ALAN!"

The heart monitor by the bedside went haywire, beeping insanely as William pulse quickened to a dangerous speed.

The two other agents moved to help hold William down and Woods finally was able to slip Alan free from William's hold. The baby grabbing William's thumb with his tiny hand before he was pulled away.

"Again, I'm sorry, Mister Spears." Woods apologized before turning and walking out of the room with the child. His men holding William down still so that he could get ahead in case the mother tried to chase him down.

Alan's cries faded into the distance until William could no longer hear them.

* * *

To be continued...

 


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you." William spoke, nodding as the last of his officers left the meeting room.

The doors shut, leaving the Dispatch Supervisor alone to collect his thoughts. With a sigh and a groan, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing gingerly at his temples. Thirty years of working in office and he was still getting used to the abnormally large amount of stupidity that permeated from his employees. He had been forced to call a last-minute meeting to review the safety precautions of working in the field after receiving numerous complaints from the infirmary of Reapers coming in with fall, Scythe and--Rhea forbid--demon wounds.

Gods forbid he let any of his new recruits out on their own again.

"Sixteen damn times I have told Sutcliff to teach them how to use a Scythe properly." he snapped, pushing himself forward to begin organizing his papers. He had just finished putting away one of two folders when a single sheet fell from the other one onto the floor. Frowning, William reached down and plucked up the paper. Instantly, his eyes misted and he wished he had never noticed it at all.

A birth certificate; his original one that no longer matched the one on file and locked in a vault away from his eyes. Torn at the edges from constant handling, but still readable after thirty long years. William swore under his breath, swiftly glancing up to ensure that the door was tightly shut before letting himself fall back into his chair again, reading the name on the document over.

"Alan..."

His son, his precious baby boy who was taken from him not even ten minutes after his birth. William cursed the High Council to hell and back, blinking away a fresh barrage of angry tears. Thirty long years he had looked for his son, with no leads or any sign of his whereabouts. Thirty damn years of nothing but pain and sorrow over the memory of losing the only thing in life that had provided him with happiness. When William closed his eyes, he could still vividly see his son's sweet cherub face, green eyes bright and curious and his smile so happy. He could feel his warmth in his arms for just a moment, and hear a cute little giggle before waking up to reality.

He had sworn he'd find him, but after so many years the baby had vanished from the downtown orphanage he'd been sent to. William had asked who had adopted him, but the stubborn ladies working the place had refused to give him any information. William then tried to perform his own research, sneaking into files and pulling out documents in a manner far too illegal for someone of his ranking, but still he came out empty handed. He searched for five years before giving up, left to only mourn and wistfully wonder what had become of his poor little boy. Rhea forbid he contact the Undertaker - the man had never been in his court since Alan's conception, so why should he care now?

It wasn't as if William could do anything about it anyways; the man had disappeared not even a year after William's graduation. Hardly anyone had seen him since. Shaking his head, William swallowed his emotions and shoved the certificate back into his folder, quickly pressing a button on the pager sitting lonely on the large boardroom table.

"Grell, please come to the North Hall Meeting Room. I wish to speak with you."

It didn't take long before the redhead twirled into the room, his hair grown out so long he could sit on it if he didn't take care not to.

"You called, darling?" He sang, draping himself over William's shoulders like he always did. "Have you finally decided you want that date?"

William repressed a scowl, instead choosing to coolly stare down the redhead. "I thought I told you to teach the new recruits the proper way to handle a scythe?"

"Darling, you can teach all you want but the only way they'll really learn is to take hold of it themselves and get a _real_ good feel for it." He winked, knowing full well the double meaning he'd slipped in. "I can really only do so much. I can't make every boy into a man."

"No but you can at least teach them to better protect themselves against demons or--Rhea forbid—themselves." William snipped, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the desk." Grell cooed, moving to rub William's shoulders, "No need to pick on a lady."

William growled, but made no move to shove the redhead off. Instead, he turned his focus back to cleaning up his paperwork, carefully placing things away from the birth certificate nestled in his bag where it belonged. He didn't know how it got into a file…

He didn't know what he would do if he lost it.

"You need to relax once in a while. I know you are focused on climbing the corporate ladder but you go too far." Grell kissed his cheek, leaving behind red lipstick. "Oh, and the new recruits just arrived from the academy. They are waiting in conference room four."

William sighed, pushing his chair back and lightly nudging Grell to the side. "Thank you for notifying me. You should head back to your office, Sutcliff."

Gathering his things, William only spared the redhead a curt nod. Quietly slipping out the door without another word. He shook his head, knowing better than to turn around lest Grell be following him out. He had bigger _important_ matters to attend to than focus on the past. What's done is done, and nothing could change that.

William swallowed, his hand gripping the handle on the conference room door harder than intended.

_'Nothing can change the past.... no matter how much I want to...'_

Inside the conference room, the newly graduated reapers all stood or sat around, chatting quietly amongst themselves, excited to officially start at dispatch. Seeing the door open, everyone hurriedly lined up, standing straight so as to impress their new boss.

"Sir. Our roll call." A young man with carrot-orange hair said, stepping forward with the group's files in hand.

William slipped into the room without a word, his sharp eyes piercing the group like a hawk observing a pack of mice. Setting his folders down and taking the new one containing names of the new recruits, he approached the young Reapers and mentally counted their numbers in his head.

Twenty four, a fair number. William was pleased - it had been quite some time since the Academy had churned out a group of fresh graduates. Lately, they had been getting only groups of five or less or even none at all. The educational value in children these days was atrocious. William finished at the end of the line and back tracked to the middle, his voice breaking the silence at last. Though the silence felt awkward, as if everyone was trying hard to hold back smirks and laughter.

"Good afternoon. I am William T. Spears, head of the Management Department and Supervisor the London Dispatch. From this day forward, your life will be devoted to the cause of Death and reaping the fragile souls of human beings. Be aware - this is not a flimsy joke or easy job. You will be working with dangerous weapons, beings and even records. I advise you to not take your position or your safety for granted - it might just save your life."

He cleared his throat, flipping open the folder. "If you have any questions during the orientation, please feel free to ask. My shift goes until six o'clock, and I will be open to questions until five-thirty."

"Sir?" A young man with soft brown hair and a simpler style of custom glasses raised his hand, bringing attention to himself from where he stood in the middle of the line-up.  He was small, and somewhat weak in appearance compared to all his classmates.

A few of the others rolled their eyes, of course _he_ would be the one to start asking questions. He always had been the one to cause class to go over by asking questions of the teachers, after all. Complete teacher's pet. Now it looked he aimed to do the same with their boss.

"Humphries, sir." He said, identifying himself, "I don't mean to be rude, but…you have lipstick on your cheek. I—am sure you would rather know so that you may clean it off…"

The others all burst out laughing.

William stared, thoroughly flabbergasted. Reaching up to touch his cheek, he blinked as his fingers came away stained red. Dammit, Sutcliff! William growled, rubbing fervently at his cheek in attempt to remove the dreadful cosmetic.

"Looks like the big scary boss man has a girlfriend." one young reaper snickered, "And here we were all shitting ourselves after hearing rumors that he's a hardass!"

"Shush! He can hear you, Miller!" another hissed.

William snapped his head to the boy, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I suggest all comments be kept to yourself... Remember who I am, Miller." he growled.

The smile fell from his face, "Uh--yessir." he looked down.

Humphries flushed pink, shifting uncomfortably, "Sorry, I didn't mean to cause a disruption..."

William shook his head. "No, it is fine. Thank you for notifying me."

He dipped his head in the boy's direction, then frowned; something seemed familiar about him, but he had no idea what or even why.

"Teacher's pet." someone coughed, but the small brunet didn't respond; used to being bullied and harassed. He'd grown up differently than the others. Alone, and calling the hospital his home. He had no family, and he had no friends. He was born into the world alone, and he was sure he'd leave it alone.

Unfortunately, William also happened to hear the remark and cast another dangerous glare over the group. "Do I hear a complaint about productivity and showing respect for one's employer?"

No one said anything, everyone keeping their heads down.

"I will have you know, that such childish remarks or behavior will not be tolerated in the workplace." William scolded, already feeling a headache coming on. "You are all adults--I expect you to act as such and show some maturity."

"Says the man who was obviously snogging some secretary in a broom closet before meeting with us." Snickered a brave young reaper behind his hand.

"And I will be having a word with you afterwards." William said without batting an eyelash; it would take more than a couple of rude children to set him off. That boy though, he was letting Sutcliff handle that one for sure.

The day wore on slowly for William, having to deal with the new recruits, rather than find peace in the privacy of his own office. But finally, he was able to dismiss them and they all filed out but the young man who he had kept afterwards to talk to.

"Rhea, why are you even here?" Miller taunted Humphries, giving him a shove from behind.

"I passed my exam same as you." He responded, catching himself and straightening up again.

"Be teacher's pet all you want, it'll never make up for the fact that you can't hold your own weight in work! Never have, never will." He shoved him again, successfully causing the brunet to trip and fall into a trash bin sitting outside an office for collection.

Hearing the crash, William frowned, quickly excusing himself for a moment to peak outside. Seeing Alan on the floor and Miller laughing, his expression soured immensely and he snapped. "Miller! I will speak to you after I am finished with Jones."

Humphries groaned, pushing himself up and rightening the bin, putting the rubbish back in it that had fallen out. He then brushed himself off, noticing a large snag on his jacket. It was his only suit. It wasn't a nice one like the other students wore. They all had families. His was a cheep, mismatched suit he'd gotten from a second hand store. It wasn't much but it was the only thing he could afford. And he knew he wouldn't be able to afford another. He had to fix the tear himself.

He nodded respectfully to William as he passed him, hurrying through the crowd of recruits to the break room where he could sit down to fix his suit jacket.

With a sigh, he removed the grey blazer and examined it before readying a needle and thread.

With care, he stitched the hole together, making it as least noticeable as possible before cutting the thread with the small pair  of travel scissors in his sewing kit and putting everything away again.

Just as he picked up his jacket to put it on again, the door opened and a tall reaper walked in.

He flushed, turning away and hoping he'd stay unnoticed by the handsome foreign officer. He'd seen the man around before, and he was afraid that he had developed a small crush on the blond.

 "Dammit, Grell... 'S was m' new jacket, ye ponce..." Eric growled, sporting a large tear on the seam of his jacket sleeve. He'd returned from collections only five minutes before, and in the process of trying to sneak back into his office, he'd bumped into Grell who so happened to be both brandishing scissors at a newbie and in a right foul mood (for whatever reason evaded Eric, not that it mattered to him).

Shaking his head, he glanced around in search of the coffee pot before settling his gaze on the brunet at the table. He frowned, eyes narrowing.

"Oi... Haven't seen ye around 'ere before..."

The brunet stiffened and turned to look at him, hoping his cheeks weren't too pink, "I—uh, I just got out of orientation with Mister Spears. If I'm in your way I can get going…sir."

Ah, that explained it. Eric sighed, scratching the back of his head as he approached the table, sinking into a chair. "'S fine..."

The brunet paused, catching sight of the split seam, "Excuse me, but…that seam will tear more if you keep wearing it… I… could fix it for you, if you want. I'm not a professional but I'm pretty good with a needle…" he offered.

Why had he offered? He should have just excused himself and gone back home to his planted flowers. He had no reason to stay.

"Hm?" Eric glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Ye sure? It ain't yer problem. 'S pretty big rip, too."

"Mister Spears has excused us for the day. I have nowhere to be but to go home. Plus I have a needle and thread here." he said, pulling out his case again.

Eric stared at him for a moment, before letting out a small tired groan and shucking the coat from his shoulders. "Fine, if ye insist..."

Biting his lip, the new reaper took the jacket and sat down, matching thread the best he could with his limited supply, and getting to work.

"Did you have a rough time out on the field?" he asked when the silence grew too much for him to handle.

"Mmm... Sometimes" Eric shrugged, appearing disinterested. "Depends on wha' I'm up against."

"I meant to ask if this damage was caused on the field…" the younger reaper flushed a deep red.

"Nah... Stupid coworker runnin' around with scissors." Eric scowled, his brow furrowing. To be truthful, he wasn't looking his best at that moment either. He was covered in sweat, grime and blood from the Living Realm, his hair was messy and in need of a wash and his eyes had dark shadows underneath them. By scowling alone, he gave off the distinct resemblance to a sinister character - not someone who was open and friendly.

"That's rather dangerous. They could send someone, or themselves, to the infirmary…" he observed, carefully stitching the seam closed again.

"Indeed... Idiot's supposed tae be banned from carryin' sharp objects, after wha' happened tae the last batch of recruits. Still cleanin' their blood off the walls of the training room."

Humphries paused in his sewing, looking up wide-eyed, "What—what happened to them?"

"Uhhhh, let's see... One cut in half, the other a pile o' limbs, an' the  third... ye dun wanna know 'bout the third" Eric said nonchalantly, his face devoid of emotion, as if cutting down newbies was an everyday occurrence.

Gulping, the young newbie  looked down at the tear in the elder reaper's coat, imagining it slicing him in half rather than fabric.

"We were warned of the dangers on the field, never here in the office…"

"Yeah they dun tell ye these thin's when ye sign up." Eric waved him off dismissively. "'S more dangerous in 'ere with Grelly around than out in the field running with devils."

The newbie paled, "Surely…you are joking?" he hoped out loud.

First off, he had enough bullying to deal with from his own classmates; he didn't need to be pushed around by older dispatch agents as well. And even so, he _was_ sick. They had been very hesitant to let him into the school to begin with because of the dangers on the field. But he'd worked so hard to earn his scholarship that they eventually caved under the conditions that there were restrictions to his field wok should he ever pass the exam. He was to never work without a partner, being the biggest one. And the hospital still had custody of him. They had the right to pull him off field work if they had any indication that it was too much for him. With such precautions, he would have thought they would have also warned him of this 'Grelly' person.

"Maybe" for the first time, Eric flashed the boy a grin. "Wha's tae say I'm not?"

Pale cheeks flushed red, "Do you often tease new requites, sir?"

"Only when it appeals tae me" came the honest answer.

"Oh…" He looked back down, returning to his task of fixing the split seam, and the small cut that had started the seam's unravel. Still, he didn’t know if this man's 'teasing' was a good thing or not.

Eric watched him, his expression thoughtful. "Say... yer a wee little lamby, aren' ye?"

He looked up, "What?" Blinking, Humphries studied the man's face, "Sorry, I haven't heard that expression before, Sir."

"A lamby." Eric repeated, without missing a beat. "Someone small and innocent."

If possible, Humphries' cheeks grew even warmer, "I suppose…" He tied off the thread and carefully trimmed it before lifting the jacket to show Eric, "Finished, sir. It's as good as new."

Eric grinned, taking the jacket back. "Cheers!" he said, saluting the brunet before taking his leave.

"…Bye…" Humphries shook his head and packed up his sewing kit once more before leaving, himself, ready to head home.

* * *

 

The day ended slowly for William, his time spent filing paperwork and lecturing a handful of the new recruits. Honestly, he had expected the Academy to churn out better attitudes than this for its graduates. Twice he had been forced to abandon his work flow in order to prevent an accident or break up rough housing in the hallways. These kids, obnoxious little fleas, were rude, barbaric and had no respect for rules or regulations. William had run himself hoarse shouting at them to take it down a notch.

Now, hours later with a bruised ego and sore throat, the Supervisor was finally able to pack up his stuff and leave for the day.

Grell stood in the doorway, a smirk upon his lips, "Have fun with the little brats, darling?" he teased, knowing full well how stressed the day had been for the handsome, stoic man.

William cast a glare up at the man, his expression harried. "I don't see you helping like you were supposed to." he hissed, roughing putting away a couple of folders in his bag.

"I'm surprised you are still insisting that I do help you. You know my feelings about kids, and you know my history of being left alone with them. I avoided my duties today to help you have less work. Really, Darling, you should get Eric to help you. He doesn't mind them so much."

"I would, but he's out in the field constantly... it's as if he avoids being her on orientation day deliberately." William grunted, pausing at the sight of a folder sitting on the corner of his desk - the one containing the names of the recruits.

"Bah!" Grell dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand, "I'm just as good on the field. If you ordered it I'd take his work for a day and he'll be free to help not kill the brats."

William chose to ignore him, picking up the folder and flipping it open for the first time that day. Inside were the files of each new recruit, containing their name, personal information and photograph. William bypassed all of them, looking for one individual. He couldn't explain it, but he had an irking about the new boy, the one named 'Humphries'. Something was off about him - William was certain he had seen him at least once before.

"Giving me the silent treatment won't make me any more tolerant of the new batch of brats." Grell pointed out, linking his arm with Will's, "But maybe a kiss would. Care to try it?"

But William had gone rigid, having finally found Humphries' file. His eyes were wide, breathing heavy and hoarse. No way... there was no way this was possible! Maybe he was getting his hopes up, but how else could it make sense?

There, next to the semi-smiling face of the small frail looking newbie was the name _Humphries, Alan T._

The rest of his information was lost to William. They weren't important.

Alan. His name was Alan.

But the birth date?

William's eyes scanned for it, finding only a year. _1800_. It lacked a month and date of birth, but the year was so accurate…

Feeling William stiffen up, Grell sighed, "You aren't even pushing me away anymore! How cold. Put down the paperwork and at least tell me to back off!" He grabbed the file in Will's hand, yanking it out of his grasp, "It's not like this is anything super important—oh?" He blinked down, also spotting the first name and year of birth.

His face fell, "Darling… you do realize it's a popular name, right? There are lots of boys his age who are named the same. You have got to stop doing this to yourself. You'll make yourself sick."

"He has the same name, same birth year... he even look like me..." William murmured, more to himself than to his companion.

Grell dropped the file, ignoring as all the papers fluttered about their feet, "Don't, William. Just stop right there. His name isn't Alan Spears. It's Alan Humphries. He has his parents—Mister and Misses Humphries! Lots of people have brown hair and fair skin, Will. Besides, his is much lighter than yours. Yours is so dark it could be mistaken for black. Snap out of it. You can't find him for a reason, Will. I know you broke into the orphanage records. Your son never existed there. Not even adoption papers."

A loud bang sounded, William slamming his hands on the desk with a look of fury on his face. "Leave." he hissed at the redhead. "Before I do something I might regret later...leave."

"You'll do that regardless—don't think I don't know you. Cold and emotionless except when it comes to that baby!" Grell grabbed Will's shoulders, forcing him to face him, "That baby is poison to you, Will. Just—forget about him."

Grell sighed, "I do care for you, Will, and if I could find your baby, I would…but you have to start facing the facts and you have got to stop doing this to yourself every time you see a young man named Alan who is around the right age."

But William merely pushed Grell's hands off of him, gathering the last of his things and leaving in a haste. Deep down, he knew the redhead was right, but to hear him call his child--the one taken away from him--poison made the man's blood boil.

No, he would not stop until he found his son. Even if it took a hundred more years to locate him.

Grell sighed sadly, "I hate to see you hurt yourself like this all over again…" he muttered before picking up the files once more and looking at Alan's papers as he sat on the edge of Will's desk. "You don't even look like either of them. They are both so refined and handsome with sharp features—you look meek and feminine in a way. No way you could have come from their combined genes…" He sighed and took the files to be filed away correctly, not wanting William to dwell on them when he returned the following morning.

* * *

 

The next day, Alan received his first assignment, finding he was working under the mentorship of an Eric Slingby. He found Eric's office and knocked, shocked to find none other than the Scot that he'd been secretly crushing on from a distance. To say he was distracted that day was an understatement, but finally, he got through the day and got to retreat back home.

The sky had opened up, grey clouds dumping a heavy rain down onto Reaper London. Not having an umbrella, Alan hurried through the rain unprotected, hugging brown folders of work he needed to take home to finish to his chest, hoping to shield it from getting too wet as he made his way to the nearest bus stop.

Eric stood at the bus stop, cursing as he looked out from his shelter underneath the stop at the pouring rain. It showed no signs of stopping soon, and that was rather worrisome.

Out of the fog that was beginning to settle, the figure of Alan hurried towards him, slowing to a stop when he realized that someone was already at the bus stop. He couldn't help but worry that it was one of his bullies. Rain soaked him, droplets dripping from his hair and streams of water going down his face.

Eric, seeing the young man, frowned, squinting his eyes for a better look. Upon realizing it was his student, he froze and called out in a worried voice. "OI!"

Alan blinked, recognizing Eric's voice. "Eric-Senpai?"

Eric gestured hastily for the boy to get out of the rain, his eyes flickering at the sight of the brunet's soaked hair and suit. "Shit.... Where's yer umbrella?!?"

Alan shook his head, "Someone took it." He admitted as he slowly moved under the overhang, "—Not today, I mean…they took it weeks ago…I can't afford to keep buying umbrellas every time it rains, so I gave up on the idea of having one…" As he spoke, he examined his paperwork Eric had assigned him to take home. The outside of the thick envelopes were soaked but luckily it was still dry on the inside.

"What are you doing here, sir? I thought you got off work hours ago…"

"Overtime." Eric grunted. "Stick-up-the-ass Spears decided tae give me more than I bargained for t'day..."

Alan blinked, "But you weren't in your office. I just came from their and locked it up as you asked me to." He sat down on the cold bench, his suit sticking to his skin and making him uncomfortable.

"I was in the field." Eric elaborated further, growling slightly as he dared to peek out into the foggy streets. "Damn, where the 'ell is tha' bus?"

"It's due at quarter past the hour—oh…" Alan frowned down at his watch, "…We've missed the last bus of the evening… I had been sure I left in time to catch it…"

Eric swore badly, glaring up at the rain pouring down on their heads. "Shit.... Fuckin' 'ell!"

Alan fell silent, debating to himself on what to do. He couldn't get to his apartment. It was way too far a walk. So his options were to turn to the Hospital or maybe Eric would allow him to sleep on the davenport in the man's office. It seemed comfortable enough…

It was then the brunet realized that said Scotsman was talking to him, prodding his temple with a broad figure. "-lan... ALAN!"

Alan blinked, his cheeks flushing as he looked up, "What? Sorry, did you say something, sir?"

"I asked how far yer place was." Eric grunted, fishing his pockets for a phone. "I'm gonna call a cab... they still run late."

Alan shook his head, "You don't have to do that." He insisted, "I'm still in the academy dorms for an extended lease in exchange for my helping students study. I'm sure it's well out of your way and the cab fair will get too expensive." He sighed, running a hand through his dripping hair, slicking it back and out of his face, "I'll just stop by the Hospital. It's only three blocks from here and I'm already soaked."

"Hospital? Kid, they dun take people in, I hate tae say it. Even if yer an ex-patient, drug addict, or wha'ever..."

Alan stiffened "I do hope you don't think I am a drug addict or 'whatever'!" he snapped, feeling a little hurt by the implication, "And they will take me in. They always do…." He looked down at the saturated pavement, "It's my leaving they don't like…"

"Huh?" Eric gave him a confused glance, his expression hilarious despite the somber situation. Frowning, he dialed the number for the cab service, speaking almost cheerfully into the other end. "Evenin'! Can I get a cab to the Dispatch Bus stop?"

Alan waited for Eric to hang up before speaking again, "I…am guessing you haven't read my medical files yet…" he muttered, realizing that Eric treating him normally was all too good to be true. People either bullied him or pitied him. So far, Eric had treated him as if he was any other rookie. But as his mentor, Eric was required to know of any ailments Alan had to work with.

"…Promise me…you won't treat me any differently after you do…"

"Okay...." Eric said, though his voice held uncertainty. Medical files were never a good thing. It often meant the reaper in question was either deformed in some way, mentally ill, or had contracted some strange ailment that permanently disfigured them. Eric groaned inwardly; why did he always find the lost puppies of the group?

Even if this one was more of a cute lamb than a pup. Eric growled, fixing his blazer; he did _not_ just call this newbie 'cute'.

Alan bit his lip and turned away. It seemed it was already starting. His Thorns were pushing his mentor away as well. Clutching his work to his chest again, he backed up into the rain, "I—I'll see you tomorrow, sir." He said before turning in the direction of the Reaper Hospital.

"...Wait." Eric called out, looking down at his phone with a frown before facing the brunet. "Do ye really need a place tae stay tha' badly?"

Alan paused again in the rain, "I'll be fine." He insisted, "And I promise to get my work done before my shift starts tomorrow."

"If ye dun have anywhere tae stay, come with me." Eric continued to press. "I can help ye with the work an' it'd be better than walkin' out in tae the rain again."

Alan felt his cheeks flush as he looked up, meeting Eric's gaze, "I…really don't want to be a bother…"

Eric shook his head, shaking a finger at the brunet as if he were a naughty dog. "Oi. Ain' a burden. If it was, I wouldn' have offered it tae ye."

The brunet hesitated once more before nodding, "Alright." He agreed, "As long as you are sure." He turned and walked back over to Eric under the bus stop.

Eric grinned at him, turning away to scan the roads. "Say... why are ye affiliated with the hospital?"

Alan's gentle gaze dropped, "Finish reading my file." He suggested, "Then I'll answer any questions you have about it."

If Eric had a response, he didn't get the chance as a taxi pulled up to the curb and Alan, already being completely soaked, hurried forward to open the door to the cab for Eric so that he would be able to stay mostly dry on his ride home.

Eric slipped in with out a word, waiting until Alan was in and rather snug beside him (it was a small space) before mumbling the directions to the driver. As the cab sped off down the busy streets, Eric turned his head away from Alan, frowning in a thoughtful manner. "...I ain' gonna like wha' I see, am I?"

It wasn't a disgusted question, but one laced with worry.

Alan didn't answer. He didn't have to.

After the driver delivered them to Eric's apartment building and had been paid, Alan followed Eric up to his apartment, shivering as he waited for the Scot to unlock the door.

Eric let Alan inside first, quick to point in the direction of the bathroom. "'S tae yer left, ye can' miss it."

"Thank you." Alan nodded, setting down his folders of work on a small table near the door and taking off his shoes, "Where may I hang my suit to dry?" Eric had insisted that he take a warm shower when they got there, and it was a tempting offer.

"Leave it on the toilet, I'll hang it up over the shower after I go in." Eric said, moving around the apartment to switch on the lights.

Alan nodded and hurried to the bathroom, getting the water on and heated before stripping out of his wet suit and leaving Eric to finish going over Alan's personnel file as he should have done before he'd met with Alan as his mentor for the first time.

The warmth from the hot water raining down upon his skin was welcome and relaxing, and Alan simply stood under it, letting the warmth soak in and chase away the chill that had set into his bones from being out in the weather.

When he felt warm enough, he knew he had to hurry. He didn't want to rudely use up all of Eric's hot water, so he reached for the bottle of shampoo and squeezed a little into his palm to put in his hair then he grabbed the bar of soap, cheeks flushing as he paused to take in the faint, manly scent.

This was what Eric smelled like…

He started to work a lather up on his skin and then another thought struck him which made his blush grow redder; Eric had rubbed this same bar of soap all over his own body, possibly as recently as that morning.

Alan shook his head and set it aside, working to rinse his skin and hair under the falling droplets of water.

"Stop thinking like that! He's your senior—your teacher. It doesn't matter if he smells of pine or he was built like a god. It didn't matter if his smile lit up the darkest of rooms or that his hair was the color of the sun shining high in the sky… He's not for you." He scolded himself.

He finished up and turned off the water, toweling himself dry before stepping out of the tub.

Realizing that he'd forgotten to ask what he could wear while his suit dried; Alan wrapped the towel around his waist and cracked open the door. "Eric—sir?" he called out, "I forgot to ask if I could borrow a robe or something to wear while my suit dries…"

He was met with silence.

"Senpai?" The brunet slipped out of the foggy bathroom and padded down the hall in search of Eric, finding the man hunched over something as he sat on the couch in the main room. "Sir?"

Eric remained silent, never once acknowledging the man, his expression grim and eyes staring down disbelievingly at the medical file of his student. No, it wasn't possible... it couldn't be.

"Sir…I'm sorry to interrupt, but could I please borrow more than just a towel while my suit dries?" Alan reached out to touch Eric's shoulder, his other hand holding the towel to make sure it didn't fall or come loose.

Normally he was self-conscious about his body, but he had nothing he could use to cover up the scars showing from under his skin. Thin vine-like lines with points which had given his illness it's name; Thorns of Death – discolored his pale flesh in a tangled mess that seemed to follow his veins up his arms and legs and into his torso. They weren't incredibly noticeable, but once spotted, it was hard not to see.

Without warning, Eric reacted, grabbing Alan's arm and pulling closer for a look. He stared down at the scars, his lips parted slightly in shock, as if he'd hoped it had been a joke. But the vines swirled and sprouted over the pale skin like trails of ink, marring it in a sad, heartbreaking fashion.

Alan had gasped out when he was grabbed, and he let go of the towel, though luckily it stayed loosely around his hips. He watched as Eric studied the patterns of his body, and he turned his head away to look blankly at the far wall.

"Please…don't treat me differently than if I were a healthy student of yours…" he muttered, "I didn't catch them—I was born with them, so you don't have to worry about me letting cinematic records pass through me." He sighed and sat up straight, "I never knew my parents. And the doctors don't know if my mother had been infected or if I had been infected instead of her…It's a mystery we can't solve as no one knows where I came from."

Alan looked at the markings on his arm, "You asked about the hospital… I lived there; raised by the medical staff until I was granted a scholarship to Reaper Academy.  I was born into this world alone…and I'll leave this world alone, but at least I have been of help. I was their test subject for treatments. When I was ten they developed a drug that slows Thorns, and it works well…I'm still taking it, and it is the only reason why I have been allowed to attempt a career with Dispatch before I die."

His voice was monotone as he spoke, but it held a hint of the loneliness he felt.

Eric watched him, his eyes unreadable but the small twitch of a frown upon his mouth spoke of disagreement. He could feel the loneliness Alan bore, and something inside of him quivered. It wasn't fair - the kid had barely started out on life. He was just a boy, why was he this ill! Moreover-

"Ye were taken from yer own mam?"

Alan shook his head, "I don't know. I don't know if she gave me up or if she survived childbirth—or what happened. All I know is that she's never been in my life…same with whomever my father is. I imagine sometimes that mother was a small but beautiful woman with soft, light brown hair and a gentle smile…and that father was a strong, protective man with dark hair and strong features." He paused, flushing, "I…read a lot of books…"

The brunet adjusted himself and tightened his towel about his waste, looking away, "Sir…I really would feel better if I weren't so…exposed right now. I usually only let my doctors and nurses see…"

Eric frowned, about to interject when he realized Alan's predicament. Flushing a shade of red, he cleared his throat, heaving himself up off the couch and speeding from the room in search of proper clothing for the poor boy. "I, huh, have only one thin' tha' migh' fit ye... A student o' mine wore it once, but 'e was about yer size a' the time, so...."

"A…student?" Alan felt his heart give a painful beat. Did the man sleep around a lot? He hated the thought, but he knew it was only his crush on the man making him feel that way. The man was entitled to his privacy…but still… "Why do you have a student's clothes here, sir?"

"Ah...." Eric cursed as a number of boxes and books came cluttering down out of storage. "'E was under m' watch fer a time.... 'E was pregnant, see. An' it wasn' the best o' situations fer 'im - baby had health problems. Almost killed 'im midway through. Hence why they put 'im under my care fer a while."

"Oh." Alan shifted his knees together as he waited on the couch. And he cringed, scolding himself for what he asked next, "And…you weren't the father?"

"Wha'?!" Eric exclaimed before a loud bang was heard. "Ow, shit, fuck!"

He winced, rubbing his head where he'd smashed it on the shelf, glaring at the sleeve of an old white shirt poking innocently out from the edge of a box.

"No, hell no! I ain' got any kids. No, 'e was pregnant before 'e even graduated the academy. I can't remember who the bloody father was though... this was all thirty years ago."

Alan breathed a sigh of relief, though he knew he was being a little selfish with being relieved that his crush didn't have kids or a…but maybe he did?

"Do you want kids, though?" he asked casually, "Or, does your…girlfriend?"

Eric shrugged, though he knew the gesture would remain unseen by the brunet. "I dunno... A bit old fer kids, dun ye think? An' I dun have a girlfriend... not anymore a' least."

The brunet relaxed, smiling to himself, "No…I don't think you are too old if it's what you want, sir."

Eric gave a small laugh. "Yer a nosy little lamby, aren' ye?"

"I—I just—I'm sorry." Alan flushed. "That was rude of me."

Eric came back into the room, cradling an old but clean shirt, the fabric slightly stretched at the middle. "'S fine, not like I really care. 'M old, m' 'kids' are ye little shits a' work an' the academy, an' I prefer a bachelor life tae commitment a' the moment... 's nice no' tae be tied down."

He grinned at the brunet.

Alan gave a small nod and took the offered shirt and returning to the bathroom to put it on and hang his towel.

"Shower's yours, sir. I'll get to work on my paperwork while you are in there—thank you for taking me in, tonight." He said, walking back out in the long shirt that hung to his knees. The sleeves were also rolled up as they were a little long on him.

"I'll be out in a bit then." Eric nodded. "An' I keep tellin' ye no' tae worry 'bout it. 'S no big deal."

"…It is to me…" Alan muttered, taking his work out of the envelope and finding a pen before settling on the couch to work.

* * *

To be continued...

 


	6. Chapter 6

William's fingers danced across the keyboard at a rapid pace, the man's brow furrowed in focus and his tongue poking out between his teeth. On the screen of the library's computer, a document was pulled up, baring the name and all personal information of one Alan Humphries. The supervisor knew he was taking a big risk using a public network _and_ computer, but his own was currently undergoing repair after Grell so kindly and _accidentally_ spilled coffee all over it, but he had to know. The idea that Humphries might very well be his son was haunting him. He even had dreams about it - Alan, waiting for him in the hospital for years on end, Alan asking him why he left, even toddler Alan running up to him with happy cries.

William swallowed, rubbing at his sore temples. Focus, he had to focus.

The door swung open as Alan used his shoulder to keep the heavy door from slamming shut on him. Arms full, he maneuvered his way into the records room and headed to the desk, taking no notice of his boss at first.

Setting the load down at the main front desk, he let out his relief of unloading the heavy load. "Mister Slingby's late paperwork from the last two months." He told the lady tending the desk, "He said to tell you he's sorry it's so late."

"You must be his new junior. Don't let that man fool you, he's always late. Try not to pick up on his bad habits, young man. And you can tell him that he needs to stop treating you as his secretary. He can bring his work down himself. There is no reason for him to avoid me; it wasn't that bad a break-up."

Alan blinked and backed away, nodding, "I'll…let him know you said that." He agreed, turning on his heel but bumping into the back of William's chair as he sat on an outer computer.

"I—I'm sorry sir!" Alan bowed his head, realizing just who it was he'd disturbed.

William grunted as his seat jerked, rudely throwing his sight off from the document. Turning to give a lecture to the unfortunate soul who disturbed him, he froze at the sight of none other than Alan Humphries, the boy's presence sending chills down his spine.

"I'm sorry," The brunet said again, "I wasn't watching where I was going and I didn't see you there, sir."

"I...it's fine, just remember to watch yourself next time." William chided lightly, turning back to his 'research' as calmly as he could. As if he was alone, and his possibly-but-not-for-certain son wasn't standing next to him, perfectly positioned to see what was on his monitor if he dared to turn his head.

Alan wanted to ask why William was here on a public computer rather than in his office, but he figured it'd be rude, and he'd already gotten too nosy with his senior—it probably wasn't a good idea to do so with his boss.

"I will try to be more vigilant from now on, sir." He insisted, "I'll…leave you to your work, I need to meet Mister Slingby for today's collections."

William nodded, waiting until he heard Alan walk away from the computer desks and then the sound of the door closing shut to let out a sigh of relief.

Will turned back to the screen and continued his search, finding nothing after hours. The boy Alan Humphries was a mysterious lad. He had no clues as to who his parents were. It was simply as if he appeared in the custody of the London Reaper Hospital.

Giving up, he decided that he would take some more drastic measures to satisfy his need of finding out who Alan Humphries really is—and if his true name was Alan Spears.

Logging out, William gathered his things and headed back to the Dispatch Floor, knowing that Eric and Alan were out on collections and he had some time before they got back.

It was, for once, a convenient thing that Eric had forgotten to lock his door as he normally did when he left for collections, and William was able to slip right in without drawing suspicion. Eric's desk was a mess, and William huffed as he passed it on his way to the smaller desk dedicated to the Scot's junior. Alan kept his desk tidy and organized, and it could almost rival William's own, if not for the fact that there were a few mugs sitting on it.

Why did he need more than one?

One was still full and had nothing but water in it, the other two had evidence that they had at one point had tea or coffee. One even looked like it had been a day old already.

The mugs were the property of Dispatch's break room, so William had no problem in grabbing one of the empty ones for his use before leaving again with the intent of sending it and a few of his hairs for testing.

He had to know. It was driving him crazy and it was affecting his production levels on the job.

* * *

 

There was a firm knock on the door of William's office a week later, and when the supervisor called out his permission to enter, a young female reaper in a white lab coat stepped inside with a binder. "Sorry for interrupting your work, Mister Spears, but I was told that you wanted these results as soon as they were finalized."

William glanced up from his paperwork, confusion rattling his brain for a moment before realization kicked in. Swiftly shoving the work aside, he stood and made for the young woman, anticipation evident on his face.

"They have the results? No further testing is needed?"

She nodded, "They were finally able to lift enough DNA from the mug you sent us to run the tests." She flipped open the file and flipped to the last page which had the results summed up in layman's terms.

"It's a match to he hair samples you sent in."

William felt his breath catch in his throat and it took all his willpower to not let it show on his face. Instead, expression blank as paper, he nodded his thanks to the woman and began scanning the document. She was right - matching DNA on the mug and his hair. It was true - William's suspicions had been correct.

She nodded and bowed her head, "I'll leave you to your work now, sir." She said, exiting the room, closing the door behind her and leaving William alone with the knowledge that he had, if fact, finally found his long lost baby boy.

William found himself shaking, not with joy but fear. This news, it was too much, too soon! He wasn't ready, he had not prepared! And Alan... oh, how would Alan react to the news? How did Alan even feel about his 'unknown' mother?

After William stood shocked still for far too many minuets, there was a knock on the door and Grell invited himself in before William would have normally had the chance to do so himself.

"Well, that's an odd place to be doing paperwork, darling." He smirked, teasingly.

William did not answer, still staring down at the document with wide eyes.

"Hello? Dispatch to William!" Grell knocked on the top of William's head as if he were a door, "You could at least grunt and tell me to get out. You know I hate the silent treatment! Nothing on that file is important enough to ignore me!"

The redhead then grabbed the file and yanked it away from Will.

"Wait-!" William cried out, too late to grab the folder back before Grell had a chance to see its contents.

"You're acting…oddly today. Just what is this?"

Frowning, he turned his gaze to the file and his frown deepened, "Please tell me you _didn't_ do some bull DNA test on Humphries behind that poor boy's back! He's not your kid and you need to let it go! It's seriously a huge breach in his trust and privacy, and you don't need this to tell you he's not your son!"

Grell evaded William's next try at grabbing the file as he spoke and walked around William's desk, grabbing the man's lighter from the top drawer where he kept a few packs of cigarettes. Flicking the flame to life, he passed it under the file to get rid of it. Smoke started curling up on the air towards the ceiling as the corner of the document caught fire.

William snapped, lunging forward and knocking Grell aside as he slammed the folder down on the desk, putting the fire out with his hand. He winced, feeling the start of a bad burn, but breathed a sigh of relief.

Grell blinked up at him from the floor, "…You have more issues than I thought." He huffed, "This isn't healthy for you—especially burning yourself over it!"

"Then why would you even set it on fire?!" William snapped, glaring angrily at the redhead. "It is just a document, as you have said, but anyone with a bloody brain would think TWICE before lighting something that does not belong to them on fire!"

"I'm looking out for you just as I always have done!" Grell snapped, standing up and putting his hands on his hips, "You need a dose of reality."

"Reality is this..." William growled, before a small smirk twisted his lips. "You were wrong, Sutcliff."

"I wasn't wrong when I told you that you wouldn't be able to keep the thing, and I'm not wrong now."

"No..." William shook his head, still smiling. "That boy, Alan... He is my son. It was just confirmed to me not ten minutes ago. Destroy and burn that file all you wish... it won't take away the truth from me now."

"You're imagining things, Will." Grell sighed, "If you want a baby so much, I'll give you one. They can't take it from you now because you are financially stable. Come on, darling, I'll make you feel good…" Grell slid his arms around the taller man, his hands sliding down to his belt.

William narrowed his eyes and roughly shoved Grell off him, taking the opportunity of distraction to pull the document stating the results of the DNA test - visible and in black and white for Grell to see - out of its folder. Holding in front of Grell's face, he growled, "Is this imagining things, Sutcliff? You tell me - tell me I am wrong, that doctors are wrong, I dare you!"

Grell froze, his eyes scanning the results of the DNA test.

"…What…are you going to do, Will?"

William was silent, finally calming down a smidge since Grell's arrival. "I... do not know yet."

The redhead sat down at Will's desk with the results, never taking his eyes off it, "It's been so long…he could hate you." He thought out loud, "He's a nice, quiet boy, but…he did grow up an orphan…"

"I know... Turns out the hospital raised him." William sighed, rubbing tiredly at his temples. "But... he needs to know the truth. He has the right to know..."

"…Good luck with that." Grell let the file drop onto the desk, and he stood up, "This is all out of my hands."

William chose to ignore him, focusing instead on his new dilemma. Alan, his son... what was he going to do?

* * *

 

"This isn't funny! Let me out!" Alan shouted through the door s he banged on it. He'd been running an early morning errand for Eric when his fellow graduates had ambushed him and shoved him into the dark supply closet, locking him in.

"Hey! I'm going to be late for my meeting with my senior! This is highly immature!"

 Eric whistled a tune to himself, swinging his house keys in his hand as he strode down the hall, in too good of a mood. Last night's outing had gone well, and for once he'd managed to take a few people home without having to pry them off of him the next morning. He may have had a huge ego, but that did not mean he appreciated people leeching onto him like a couple of hagfish to a carcass after every good round of drunken but consensual sex.

Yes, last night had been too good for measure.

Rounding the corner, the man paused at the sound of a door slamming, footsteps hurrying and laughter arising as a group of newbies bolted past, too caught up in the heat of their mirth to notice the senior Reaper standing in the middle of the hall. Eric watched them with a raised eyebrow - that could not be a good sign...

"Let me out!" Alan's muffled voice continued amongst the banging on the door. "Seriously! Let me out of here!"

The boy's voice was starting to sound too panicked, thinking fast; Eric summoned his scythe and broke the lock on the door, barely managing to jump back before it sprang open.

With a startled cry Alan, who had been leaning against the door, fell forward as the door swung open; depositing him onto the floor at Eric's feet. He took a moment to calm his pounding heart before speaking, his head turning up to look at Eric before he froze.

"That was highly unnecessary and cruel of you guys to—E-Eric-senpai!"

"Kid?" Eric reached down, grabbing Alan by the armpit and hoisting him up. "Whaddya doin'?"

"I…" Alan paused. What could he say? He didn't lock himself in the supply closet, and he had no reason for going in there to begin with. No excuse would be any good. He hung his head, "I got…locked in." he said truthfully, leaving out the how and why.

Eric raised an eyebrow at the boy, feeling a mixture of bewilderment and concern. "How.... Did ye mange tae do tha'? The door locks from the outside...." He tried not to think of how he over-reacted with using his scythe on the door when he could have simply unlocked it and opened it normally without damaging the door.

He gestured to the door for emphasize, nodding to the lock. Then he paused, remembering the group of rookies running past him not five minutes earlier, and a frown creased his face. "Was it-"

Alan panicked. He didn't want Eric to know he was bullied in the work space. Eric already pitied him enough, though the Scot tried not to let it show. Still, since Eric found out about Alan's Thorns, he'd changed. He'd become a little more protective of Alan, keeping him close when they were collecting souls and interfering with Alan's collections if he felt that the cinematic records got too close to him. Not that they could infect him with Thorns when he already had them, but Eric seemed to think it'd make them worse or trigger an attack. Which was quite possibly a valid concern.  But Alan didn't need Eric to grow more protective of him in the office, too.

Desperately, he tried to change the subject—to distract Eric from the truth, and before he knew what he'd said, it was too late to take it back.

"I think you're the most handsome man I have ever seen!"

Alan froze; his eyes wide with horror and hands slapped over his mouth.

Eric's blood went cold the minutes the words hit his ear drums. It was as if all time had stopped and the world had turned up under his feet. Staring down at his student - Alan Humphries - with the most disbelieving look, he snapped in a voice too sharply for his own liking, "What?"

"I…" Alan swallowed and lowered his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. He knew if he tried he'd only dig himself deeper into the awkwardness he seemed to be surrounding himself in that morning.

"...No. 'ell no." was all Eric could muster, letting Alan go and backing away, his expression unreadable. "Ye gotta be kiddin' me... why? Jus', why???"

Alan's throat choked up and his heart ached. He expected a rejection after his slip-up…but not one so….painful. 'Hell no'? He wasn't that undesirable…was he? Alan knew it wasn't that he was a guy. It was well known that Eric was into both women and men.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to say that!" he panicked.

"Then wha' the hell did ye mean tae say?!" Eric snapped his mind and heart going haywire. This wasn't right - he didn't want this, not with a kid who most likely wouldn't survive past his fiftieth year. "No... I can't... No. No way in 'ell."

Alan glared up through his tears, "Would I really be hell?" he snapped; hurt that Eric kept saying that over and over.

"I ain' datin' a sickie!" Eric snapped back, before clamping his mouth shut in realization of what he said.

 _'Shit_...'

Instantly, Alan's fires of anger were extinguished and he took a few steps back, a tear escaping down his cheek.

It really was his destiny; alone at birth, pass on in solitude…live on his own; unwanted by all around him.

"You don't have to." He hissed as he turned his back, looking down, "All I said was that you're handsome. It's not like—I asked you out." And then he was gone, disappearing around the corner.

* * *

 

Alan couldn't face Eric again. Not anytime soon, at least. So, he grabbed his work for the day from his desk in Eric's office and he hurried out before the Scot got back. But where could he go to work alone? The break room constantly had people in and out and he couldn't hide out in a conference room… Maybe he could hide out in one of the empty cubicles near Spears' office. No one was working in them, currently, as he and the other new reapers were still being trained by their seniors. They'd be moved into the cubicles later.

Deciding that it would be a good place, he hurried to them and chose one, setting up on the floor as there were no desks or chairs, yet.

Time passed slowly as Alan tried to concentrate on getting his work done and not let his mind wander back to Eric; what he'd practically confessed, and what Eric's cold response had been.

Laughter snapped his attention away from his thoughts and papers as a group of his fellow newbies passed by, not knowing he was there.

"No, I tell you I witnessed it! Humphries totally told his senior he had the hots for him and then was in shock when the man did the obvious and told him there was no way in hell anyone would want him!"

"Humphries should just do himself a favor and scythe himself. Not even his Senior Officer wants his company! He isn't good for much of anything."

"He's going to die anyway, from what I heard! Not much better than a mortal at this point. At least when he's nine feet under he's supplying nutrients or whatever the shit is for them plants he likes so much."

The voices faded away as the group left the area, leaving Alan alone with his thoughts again.

No friends, no family…

"Forever will I be alone…" he muttered to himself, gripping his pen in his fist.

"Humphries?" William inquired, coming up alongside Alan's cubicle.

Alan's head snapped up to look up at his boss who gazed down at him over the wall of the cubicle. "Sir?" His wide eyes gave away the hurt and rejection he was feeling.

William felt his heart break at the sight. The pain and sorrow swimming in his son's eyes struck him hard and deep, and he yearned at that moment to do nothing but take his baby into his arms and comfort. Yet he restrained himself, putting on a blank face and gesturing for the boy to follow him. It was time to reveal the truth.

Alan blinked, setting down his work and pushing himself up, "I'm sorry, I know I should be working at my assigned desk, but…" he trailed off as he followed William into his large, fancy office. It was his first time in the supervisor's office, and to say it was impressive seemed an understatement. It was clean and perfectly organized. Not even a pen seemed out of place on his orderly desk. The furnisher was expensive and comfortable looking, shelves lining the walls filled with books and items for work or decoration. Frames containing William's achievements were proudly on display, and the large window spanning one entire wall looked out over the reaper city for miles.

"Sit." was all the supervisor said, crossing the room to his desk without a second glance to the boy. Taking a seat in his own leather chair, he opened the top drawer of his desk, removing the folder containing the DNA test. He sighed silently through his nose, mentally preparing himself. There was no telling how Alan would react, but his conscious told him it would not be an easy discussion.

Alan did as he was told, sitting in the chair across from William. He wrung his fingers together and waited. He felt like he was in trouble. It was like the time when he was a kid and had wandered into a restricted area of the hospital and had been caught there.

William waited a moment before speaking. "I... Have heard that you grew up in a hospital. Is this true?"

Alan blinked in surprise but he nodded, "Yes, sir, it is." He admitted, "I have no family."

He explained further, "I never have. As long as I remember I was alone. I was born alone, and I'll die alone. I don't know what happened to my parents, but they were never in my life. I—was born with the Thorns of Death, and not even the orphanage would take me in. I was too expensive to keep, so I was kept in the hospital, waiting to hear from officials as to what to do with me. They assumed they would have to let me die…"

He closed his eyes and smiled, "But then I was gifted a chance at life. Someone who wished to remain anonymous donated a fortune to the hospital with the instructions to use whatever is needed for me on my medical bills and living arrangements. The rest was to go to research on Thorns which did result in developing a pill that slows the process of Thorns." He took out a bottle from his pocket and held it up to show.

"I was raised from that day on by the hospital staff. I have my own room there overlooking the park. But as a child, I was very sickly. I wasn't allowed outside for years… I got into Reaper Academy on a scholarship. It was my first time leaving the hospital."

He looked back up at William, "But I assure you I am still a capable reaper, and I will work as hard as anyone here for as long as I can!"

William, however, had gone rigid with a sharp intake of breath. No... it couldn't... no! Not his baby... not the Thorns. Anger washed over the man like a fire hot blanket, searing into his veins and turning his knuckles white as he clenched his fists together in a vice-like manner. How, why and when were all that raced through the man's mind, spoiling his façade of calm as his checks tinted a faint ruby crimson. He wanted an answer to his unasked question, one that would differ from the truth. Yes, in his inquisition, the dawning of realization hit him like the beam of the morning sun hitting the back of his chair with such ferocity.

Anger was swamped over with an ocean of guilt, the fire dowsed and dead in the wake of sorrow and regret. The memory, be it of the snow or the cloudy skies or of Thomas's agonized expression as the reels of life stabbed into William's immortal body, was all he needed to sum up the conclusion.

_'My fault... oh dear Rhea, what have I done to you...'_

"Sir?" Alan's voice spoke up again, breaking through William's thoughts after a long moment of silence had past, "I promise I have not hid this information from the school or Dispatch. They have said I'm fine to keep working until…well…" he didn't want to finish. He didn't need to. It was obvious that one day his body would be too torn by his illness that he'd lack the energy to fight it, let alone work.

William said nothing, his mind churning like a roaring sea of thoughts. With the guilt slowly nibbling away at his confidence, he could barely bring himself to look at his son, and when he did it was with pity and regret. Two words were all that left his mouth a moment later. "I'm sorry."

It was not to his illness, out of sympathy or even a polite gesture. It was a sincere, slip up of an apology rolling off the tongue in emphasize that somehow, the Thorns were William's fault. But Alan wouldn't get the true meaning.

The young brunet shook his head, "Its fine, sir. I'm used to living with it. It's all I have ever known, after all. I think…it is worse for those to contract the illness themselves. Their lives suddenly having an end that wasn't there before…I knew mine would end, even when I was little and could comprehend what the medical staff told me."

But William shook his head. "No... You don't understand..."

Without another word, he pushed the folder of truth towards the brunet, mentally embracing himself for the hell that was just about to be unleashed.

Alan frowned at the sight of the burnt folder, reaching out to pick it up. "I don't understand…did…someone try to burn some of my paperwork, sir?" he asked before flipping it open.

No—not paperwork. This…had the medical and science department's seal on the top. It only confused him more. It wasn't his own medical file. His was much thicker than this. Even a summary of his medical file was thicker.

Knowing from experience that those departments always included a layman's terms page at the end for those who didn't understand all the medical or science terms, he flipped straight to the last page.

What he saw there made him gasp; standing up so quickly that the chair he sat in almost toppled over, the burnt file in his hands crinkling under his grip.

His name, and his boss' name were displayed clearly in bold lettering with the words 'DNA Match' under it.

He snapped his gaze up to look at William, "What—is this?" he demanded, "Is this some kind of joke? No—they wouldn't falsify things—why is it burnt? Did you try to hide the truth from me? Didn't want me finding out you were my father? What, finding out I'm as good as dead make you change your mind? Answer me, sir!" Alan's hands shook s they held the file. He didn't know what to feel. Anger, hurt, rejection...happiness?

"If—if you were alive all this time where have you been? Why let me grow up like that? Why bother to go behind my back to confirm— _this_?!" Alan threw the file back at William.

William did not flinch, but a rather hurt look briefly flickered over his face. However, he kept himself composed, reminded that this was only natural and Alan would hopefully calm down the more William explained the situation. "You are mistaken... I am not your father, per say...."

Alan crossed his arms, waiting for William to give an explanation.

With a sigh, William opened his desk, pulling out an old photograph. It was him shortly before Alan's birth, sitting in one of the arm chairs of in Eric's living room, his head turned to look out the window. Eric himself had taken it, much to William's annoyance at the time. Nowadays, he treasured the photo as a memoir and motivator to keep his heart set on finding his son. He knew that it would spell out the truth more than words could.

Alan didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. William—his mother—wasn't offering up answers to his questions.  He avoided touching the old photograph as he stepped back away from the fancy mahogany desk.

"Father—Mother—it doesn't change anything but what I would have called you had you kept me!" he snapped, "Why tell me all this now? To hurt me more? No one wants a sickly boy—I get it! Not even a _mother_ could love a dying baby. Well—who needs it? Who needs friends or lovers or even family—I've gotten along just fine without!"

Alan's voice trembled and mounted as tears started to roll down his cheeks as he backed up into the office door.

"You should have just let me be! Let me go on imagining my parents to be like from a fairy tale! You should have—" Alan turned, throwing open the door and rushing out.

William was left alone, frozen in his seat and not knowing what to do.

This…had been a mistake.

* * *

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

The Great Library was a great place to go if someone didn't wish to be found. Countless shelves stretched up to the ceiling in every room on every level, creating a maze of leather, paper, and ink. New reapers often would get lost among the rows of written words.

And lost was what Alan wanted to be. He weaved a path through the books until he found a dark corner with a plush chair and table for research. Believing he'd finally found a place to himself, he sat down and buried his face in his hands.

His life… why was his life so determined to break him? His illness he was used to. Having no friends he could handle… but in only a few hours he'd managed to make his mentor disgusted by him, and his long lost mother finally stepped forward to confirm that he had always been unwanted.

How could he expect to find his place in the world, find people to care about, when no one cared for him? Not even his own mother wanted him at birth!

He looked down at his right hand and tugged his sleeve up his arm to reveal his scars adorning his wrists—and for the first time in his life, he glared at the faint markings. It was his illness. It had to be. No one wanted a baby who was born so sickly. No one wanted to love a boy destined to die. His Thorns were to blame—and he couldn't do anything to change it!

The other junior reapers were right; he was better off dead.

Alan reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills. Medication that slowed the Thorns' progress, that gave him more time. He took one pill three times a day—for what purpose? To prolong his suffering?

Alan gripped the bottle tight in his fist and grit his teeth. It was time to accept his fate completely. Let the illness finish him off at their natural pace. No more hiding from death, he would embrace it.

He chucked the bottle of pills towards a shelf, not caring if it shattered or was lost.

"Ouch!" a voice yelped out from close by, a figure slipping out of the shadows with his hand to his silver haired head and holding the bottle.

Alan nearly let himself gasp a curse as he scrambled up and over to the reaper, "I—I am so, so sorry, sir! I thought I was alone over here! Are you okay?"

Damn it, what had he been thinking? Only an idiot would blindly throw objects around a public space!

"Oof... I am, thankfully... My goodness, what a hit though." the man looked up at him, bright green eyes glinting underneath a curtain of silver bangs. The man was... interesting, if one could use such a word to describe the oddest of oddities. Tall, clad in black with long silver hair, the man looked the definition of strange and creepy.

Alan flushed in embarrassment, "I deeply apologize. There was no reason for me to be throwing things—oh!"

It had taken a moment, but suddenly, Alan recognized the man. It wasn't easy as the man seemed so different from the pictures in history books and the statue in the main section of the Great Library. He lacked glasses, his hair was loose around himself like a fluffy shroud rather than a sleek long tail of silver, and he wore bulky robes rather than a suit and trench coat. But he was sure this was the same legendary man he'd learned about.

It made his embarrassment multiply.

"You—are the Legendary Silver Death…aren't you? Oh scythe."

The man glanced up, his eyes hidden behind the curtain of hair, but his mouth dropped slightly. "Oh my... You are Humphries, aren't you? The sick little ducklin' from the infirmary~!"

Alan's gaze cast downwards. Even one as famous as this man knew him only by his illness.

"…Yeah. That's me. The 'sickie'."

But Undertaker merely tilted his head, as if deep in thought. "Why the long face, boy?"

"I'm sick." Alan said blatantly, "Dying, even. I'm beginning to think that the only place in this world for me is nine feet under."

"And why is that?" the elder pressed, carefully veering his cart safely off to the side before moving to approach the brunet, his body swaying in a puppet-like manner. "Just because the world thinks one thing of you does not mean its true, my dear."

Alan glanced up and hesitated. This man really didn't need some random kid pouring his heart and soul out to him. His problems were probably so petty to a great reaper like him.

But he found he couldn't hold it in and it all came spilling forth without stopping.

"I have never had a single friend," he started, "I thought I didn't need them, but now I accidentally confessed my feelings for the person I like and they are all disgusted with me and I wouldn't be surprised if they put my name up to be transferred to a different senior officer—and then my mother shows back up in my life to confirm how not even a mother could want a dying child. What am I, really? Even to the hospital staff I'm just an experiment. Someone to shove tests at to see about curing Thorns so that they can help later victims of Thorns who weren't born with them—who actually has loved ones…"

"Your mother?" the elder reaper scratched his chin. "Hm, a sort of strict, hard working fellow, isn't he? No room for mistakes or questions, supervising the entire London division at the young age of sixty-something. Yes, I think I should remember him well..."  
  
A crash sounded from close by, shouts of fear and terror as an angry shriek echoed off the white walls of the library, a chainsaw roaring furiously amongst the gnashing of shark-like teeth.  
  
"YOU LITTLE PUNKS, HOW DARE YOU CUT MY HAIR!!!!!"  
  
Undertaker frowned, leaning over the brunet's shoulder to take a gander at the commotion - the sight of red against red, liquid and solid, make him grimace. "Oh dear... seems the clean up crew will have a fine mess to deal with."  
  
Shaking his head, he slunk back over to his books, gesturing with a long bony finger for the boy to follow him. "Come, child. Let us move our conversation to a safer location."

Alan frowned, “But—how did you know Mister Spears was my mother?” He inquired, ignoring the mess Grell seemed to be making.

He relieved no answer as the man started along a row of books.

“Sir?” Alan hurried after Undertaker, having to jog  to catch up to the tall silver reaper’s long stride.

"Hush, child" the man chided, darting swiftly to the left as a book went whizzing past his head. Dear oh dear, it seemed that Ms. Sutcliffe was in quite a rage. Undertaker barely batted an eye at the sight of blood on the walls, but it didn't prevent him from quickening his pace and taking the rather slow Alan Humphries by the arm and yanking him into a broom closet for safe measure. The old Reaper clicked his tongue - not what he had in mind, but it would do.

Alan gasped. One moment he'd been stunned by the sight of blood in the library, and the next, he found himself shoved in yet another closet—only this time, he had someone with him.

Truthfully, it made him even more panicky than that morning when he'd been locked in a supply closet. He swallowed and backed up a step in the small, cramped space; never taking his eyes off the intimidating man. Half of him expected the man to attack or take advantage of him. It wouldn't be the first time someone attempted to do so.

But Undertaker merely fumbled against the walls, mumbling to himself before a click sounded and an old dusty light bulb flickered weakly to life. Undertaker exhaled, a floating cloud of dust quickly fleeing from him. The room had obviously not been used in ages. Walls and the floor were coated in a layer of thick, grey dust, cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the single, brave little light bulb struggling to stay bright, and every piece of equipment was either outdated or just too inefficient.

Wiping off his hands, ignoring the tiny snowfall of dust bunnies clumping on his black shoulders, Undertaker cleared his voice and gestured to the other man. "Come, boy. I don't bite."

"You say that…but I'm suddenly reminded of the story of the scorpion and the frog." Alan said in a low, nervous voice. "And I don't wish to get stung."

"Do I look like I have a stinger?" Undertaker chuckled, amused with the boy's comparison. "It's fine, child. If I were to mean you harm, I would have done away with you the moment I first laid eyes on you."

"Some predators bide their time waiting for a weakness in defense, sir, and you have me trapped in a closet with you. This isn't a comfortable situation. I'd rather be out and exposed to Sutcliff-senpai's fit of violence. At least I know I can move around out there to avoid…harm."

Undertaker raised an unseen eyebrow at the boy. "Are you certain about that, boy? You do not seem to be too aware then of Sutcliff's bloodlust. Going out there would be offering yourself as bait to the shark. I, on the other hand, don't need to bide my time-"

He vanished from Alan's line of vision, fingers slowly curling around the throat of the boy as hot breath tickled his ear.

"-I can move faster than you can blink-"

The next second the hand crushing his windpipe was gone and Undertaker was back where he started, the large grin of insanity plastered upon his face.

"-And I am here, there, and everywhere at once."

Alan coughed and with wide, startled eyes, he looked up at the man of legend. "I truly am sorry I hit you—it was an accident!" he insisted, sure the man was upset with him. After all, this man was probably used to being treated like a king.

But Undertaker laughed and shook his head as he touched a finger to the boy's stumbling lips. He tilted his head, exposing a single, glowing eye before humming, "If I was angry, I would have not had rescued you~ Chin up, chap! There's a good lad!"

"You call this a rescue? You pulled me into a dusty old closet." Alan pointed out. "I've already spent more than enough time in closets, today, and I'd rather be allowed to leave."

"And face the shark in the water? Boy, you are either foolish or stupidly brave" the elder tutted, shaking his head and clucking his lips. "Here I was about to tell you what you wanted to know about your dear sweet mother, too..."

"I wouldn't call him dear or sweet—he's hardly even a mother. Just the person who brought me into this lonely world." Alan crossed his arms. "I wish he'd never told me the truth. He was better in my imagination."

"Was he now~?" the old Reaper purred, swaying on spot, his eyes glinting beneath his shaggy bangs. "I am not so sure of your little 'truth', child. Frankly, dear boy, you seem to know barely anything about your poor mother at all."

"He left me alone the day I was born." Alan pointed out, "Left my life in the hands of the orphanage which refused to take in a sick baby like me."

At this, Undertaker went oddly silent, his smile dropping. He pondered over his options, debating on whether to reveal himself to the boy or to keep his little secret mum. It was nerve wracking, the tension in the air choking at his lung and fogging up his mind. For the first time in a long while, the old Reaper felt nervous, as if his entire being was under observation by the Gods above. His next move, be it a truth or a lie, would determine his fate with this boy crafted from his own flesh and blood.

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to speak truth in the face of the innocently ignorant child.

"If only it were true... what separated you and your mother was a much crueler fate." he said, shaking his head. "You mother, William T. Spears, loved you very much, boy. Don't ever question that about him. It was not his decision to leave you."

' _It was mine_.'

"I wish I could believe that, sir."

"You might... if you want to see it for youself~"

"See it?" Alan's interests we perked and he eyed the reaper before him. "But how? Mister Spears would have to allow it and I…can't face him, now."

"Are you forgetting who I am, boy?" Undertaker giggled, his top hat falling off onto the floor with a clatter; he ignored it.

"Of course not." Alan sighed, "But there are rules and restrictions. You can't just go up and poke him with your scythe to show me."

"No, but I can show you his book~" the older man chuckled, amused by the boy's attitude. "It's rather funny... you are a lot like him."

"Reaper books are in a high-security restricted section of the library. I do not have the clearance to even look upon the door." Alan looked away, adjusting his glasses, "And I am not 'a lot like him'."

"No, but I do." the man grinned at him, the gesture making him chuckle. "You do the same thing he does when he's nervous... moves his glasses."

Alan flushed, "I'm not nervous—they were slipping down my nose!"

The brunet sighed, "Why are you doing this, anyway?"

"Well, why not?" Undertaker shrugged, turning on his heel. "If you don't want to know, then so be it. I only offered because I know your mother better than you seem to. And to pass unfair judgment on someone... isn't that against the ethnic's of a Reaper? But if it's not what you want-"

"I—was left alone for thirty years, sir! I'm not reaping his soul! I think I'm entitled to some emotion, here." The brunet sighed and slumped his shoulders, "Fine…if you can prove it wasn't his choice…I'll give you my attention."

Undertaker glanced back at the boy, his hand on the knob of the door. "Then follow me, child. –Grab my hat."

With a deep breath, Alan followed the Undertaker past the aftermath of Grell's rage and up to the restricted floor of the Great Library. Undertaker was permitted entry, but they searched Alan and had him sign a bunch of forms before he was allowed to follow.

The library of Reaper Records held a creepy air to it. The light was dim and a chilly breeze moved round the shelves like the breath of death itself. Alan shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. He could almost feel death tugging in his soul. But whether it was because of his illness or not was anyone's guess.

Undertaker, however, appeared unbothered by the strange atmosphere. His cloak billowing around him like a shrouded black ghost, he ventured deep into the library's hold without a sound or a glance back at Alan. In the dim light, his white hair rippled and shone like streams of moonlight, an invisible wind picking up the strands to billow behind him.

Truly, he looked like a personification of the Dead; risen from the grave to guide the dying to their final destinations.

A puff of Alan's breath grew into a visible cloud as he sighed and hurried to follow the phantom-like legend until they got to a shelf and Undertaker's long, bony fingers pulled a black leather book from a high shelf. Alan waited as Undertaker flipped through and then smiled, finding what he was looking for. He then pulled out a pink and black book mark and used it to manipulate the page into showing them a scene.

* * *

* * *

 

_“Please, I don’t want to have to use force." A man spoke to the new mother._

_"My baby! Leave us alone!" William sobbed. It was clear he would not give in without a fight._

_“Then I am sorry for this.” He said as two of the men flanked the bed and grabbed his arms. The other two standing by in case they needed to help restrain William as Woods reached forward, taking Alan as gently as he could with the way the new mother was holding him._

_Alan started to full-out wail; his cries loud. He was scared. He didn’t know what was happening._

_William struggled, shrieking loudly in unison amongst his poor helpless baby's cries, trying to break free. "NO! GIVE MY SON BACK!!!!" he screamed, withering hard against the men's hold. "MY BABY! GIVE ALAN BACK! ALAN!"_

_“Again, I’m sorry, Mister Spears.” Woods apologized before turning and walking out of the room with the child. His men holding William down still so that he could get ahead in case the mother tried to chase him down._

_Alan’s cries faded into the distance until William could no longer hear them._

 

* * *

* * *

Undertaker stopped it there, taking the Death Bookmark out and slapping the book closed to replace it in its proper place.

Alan was silent, a tear escaping his watery eyes and rolling down his cheek. William—his mother—had begged to keep him…

Undertaker kept the silence for a while longer, before breaking it was a quiet, gentle tone. "Now you know the truth..."

"Why? Why did they take me?" Alan asked in a whisper.

"Because William was too young in their eyes. The boy was a student at the time, barely an adult. You grew inside of him and he became attached. They didn't like that - they felt it would hinder his future as a promising young Reaper if he was constantly struggling to support a newborn baby."

 _'It's what I felt..._ '

Alan looked down, tugging absentmindedly on his left sleeve, "…And…what of my father? Where was he in all that happened?"

Undertaker glanced down at the book, frowning. "... That is a question I cannot answer, for I myself do not know him. At least not anymore."

"Anymore?" Alan frowned, "Has he…passed on?"

"In a sense... I lost touch with him years ago. I don't know anything about him now. Or if he's still alive."

' _I am not_.'

"Oh…" Alan looked down. It would have been nice to know that his father would have been there for him had he not been taken away from his mother. "…What…was, or is his name? Maybe I could try finding him… or should I ask Mister Spears?"

"He... didn't really have an actual name. He went by many names, changing them to suit his fancy. I could not tell you his name because he switched it right before I lost touch with him."

_'My name.... is Undertaker.'_

Alan's face fell and he shivered again. It seemed if anyone could tell him of his mystery father, it'd be William.

"Thank you…for showing me what you could…" He sighed, "I'll try talking to my mother again…when I can face him…"

Undertaker nodded, setting the book back before leading the boy out of the library; never once look back in fear of his own composure breaking down completely.

 

* * *

 

Guilt lay heavy in his old heart, feeling like stones were dragging it down to the depths of a sea of regret. He'd made such a mistake in his final years as a working reaper, and he only now was realizing the extent of it.

Alan… William…

He had to make it right. But to fix what he'd broke…he'd have to face the man he'd delivered a broken heart twice over within only nine months. He had to go speak with William.

Undertaker shuttered as he walked through the halls of dispatch, a place he hadn't been since his retirement, and upon reaching William's office, he entered without a knock or call.

William, however, refused to glance up, his eyes drawn down to a pile of paperwork he wasn't working on. His mind was numb, his heart twisting and crumpling up in his chest once again per the events of that morning. He exhaled through his nose, closing red tinted and sore eyes tiredly. He couldn't think let alone find the motivation to even remove himself from his desk. He just couldn't do it anymore...

Undertaker glided like a shadow in the night behind William, making not a sound until he spoke, "I heard you found…our son." He whispered in a low, smooth voice reminiscent of before he became the mad old Undertaker, though his voice cracked when he spoke the words 'our son'.

William made not a sound, but his shoulders tensed slightly at the word 'son'.

"I owe you…more than one apology, reaper Spears." The Silver reaper admitted after a moment of silence, "I have wronged you three times over…and you don't have to forgive me. But will you allow me to speak with you?"

William flinched, but continued his oath of silence, sitting like a scolded child about to be spanked as his once love interest spoke.

Undertaker sighed and leaned in, poking his cheek with a long black nail. "You should yell at me—I showed the boy your records from the day he was born."

William's head finally snapped up, angry tears in the corners of his eyes. "... So you finally stepped up to be the father you should have been 30 fucking years ago?"

"No." Undertaker shook his head, "The boy doesn't know who I am. He was quite upset, thinking you abandoned him, and it just didn't sit right with me. So," he fished a bottle of pills out of his robes and set it on William's desk, "When he hit me with his medication, I showed him proof that his mother wanted him. That was all. He'll surely come back to speak with you, now, once he's calmed down."

But William was having none of that. "It doesn't matter!" he shouted, standing up abruptly and slamming his palms hard upon the wood of his desk. "All those years... all those fucking years I had to spend alone looking for my child! Where were you?! What the hell did you do to help me?! Tell me..."

He shook his head, voice choking.

_"Warum hast du mich allein lassen so leiden..?"_

"I told you before I wasn't the fatherly type." Undertaker shrugged. "I never said I'd be there." He sighed and sat down on the edge of William's orderly desk, his hair falling over the stacks of paperwork as he looked up, "I was selfish back then…I hurt you and I realize now it wasn't in your best interest as I had once thought. I took advantage of you and then tossed you and the result of our night together aside like you and our son were nothing. Then, I wronged you a second time…I signed the papers to have him taken from you.  I caused you more pain and loss, and I caused him lonliness. I—"

"DON'T!" William shouted, tears now rolling down his cheeks. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY YOU'RE SORRY! DO...DON'T-!"

"But I am." Undertaker frowned, "You can not force me not to feel what I feel, dear boy."

The silver huffed and stood up, walking over to the window and looking out over the metropolis with a pensive look. "I see now that I have done so much wrong. It's hard to find the laughter…it has disappeared because of my past actions… I feel rotten for not telling you when you were ready, but our son is sick and I felt it'd only be harder on you to know…"

Turning back to look at the emotional reaper, Undertaker brushed his bangs out of his face, "They told me…when they found out Alan was ill and dying. They told me that they had no place to keep him. That he was too pricy to keep alive. That was the first time I started doubting what I had done…I wanted to make it right."

He walked over to William and cupped his cheek, using his thumb to brush away a tear, "I retired. I left the world I knew and gave my entire fortune to support his care and find treatment or a cure for the Thorns of Death. Those pills were result of that and until now, I was satisfied with it."

William glared at the man, though he did not attempt to remove the hand against his cheek. "So what? You think I wouldn't spend my whole life suffering, in constant search for a son that was ripped from me?!"

"I thought that you'd get back to focusing on your career and forget the baby that was ripped from you."

"AND WHAT KIND OF IDIOT THINKS THAT ABOUT A NEW MOTHER??!!!"

Undertaker pulled his hand back and pointed a single finger at himself.

"Family never existed for me, lad. I had no parents; I am one of the only remaining few of the first of reaper kind – created, not born. All I had known was work. It's not an excuse, it's just a fact."

William opened his mouth to yell again but his throat clogged and his brain muddied with numb thoughts of despair and loss. Instead, he did the most uncharacteristic thing; buried his face in his hands and wept openly.

"I can't give you back the last thirty years…but I can…"

Undertaker frowned. Can…what? He showed Alan his mother did want him… and now it is in Alan's hands if he reunites with his mother.

"…I can leave you be, or stay…and help you through this mess I created."

But William could not answer, sobbing too hard to formulate words.

Undertaker sighed and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back somewhat awkwardly. "I truly am sorry, my boy…"

William lost it completely, collapsing against the elder's chest, his cries shaking his body like a loose leaf.

"Erm…" Undertaker felt at a loss. He'd never had to comfort anyone before—at least, not like this. He could only remember comforting students who failed a test, or something like that…this was a whole new level of comfort.

But, looking down at the younger reaper, he made up his mind right then and there. He would not leave the boy alone again to deal with his wayward emotions. William had always been in control of such things, and Undertaker was starting to fear what William would do if he was left alone again.

"…You are done working for the day." He decided out loud, scooping William into his arms like a bride on her wedding day. He then summoned a portal and stepped through it into his home above his grim shop. William could safely hide away there.

William shuddered, hiding his face in the crook of the elder's neck, refusing to look up even as he was taken from his office into the old man's shop, the familiar white of the Dispatch fading to dark grays and blacks of a dingy, old funeral parlor.

Undertaker carried him over to the bed and paused in setting him down. No—no, being in a bed was what started this whole thing. Thinking better of himself, he turned and walked into his sitting room and sat down on his horsehair sofa with William in his lap.

"There, there… let it all out, it's okay, little Spearsy."

William shuddered, resting his face in the crook of the man's neck, a steady stream of tears trickling down his face. He'd stopped sobbing but his nerves were shot and he hadn't the emotion stamina to pull away from the man who'd ruined both his and his son's life.

Undertaker sighed, rubbing his back, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, my boy…"

It was strange. Part of him wished he could go back and change things…do right by this handsome young man. He felt in his gut that he had more feelings for him than he let himself realize…

And that startled him.

* * *

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

Alan couldn't return to work. Not yet. He had so much to process that he knew that he'd be useless on the field and at the desk.

His boss was his birth mother. A mother who had begged to keep him as he was stolen away by the Reaper Government. For what reasons, he did not know. All he knew was that he was robbed of his family the day he was born, only to be rejected by the orphanage due to his health problems.

Alan found himself in the garden courtyard of the hospital. A large area on the grounds walled off from the outside world, designed to be a utopia for the sick and injured who had to stay under medical care for long periods of time. It had been his playground as a child, and his place to relax as he grew older. He felt at home surrounded by the flower beds, comforted by the smells and sounds around him.

Mindlessly, he started pulling up weeds around the flowers, letting his mind try to work itself out and prepare to face William Spears again.

"…I wonder if this means my name is actually Alan Spears…" he muttered to himself.

The crunch of leaves beneath shoes broke the calming silence, the faint scent of cigarette smoke and pine clouding the air like a plume of smoke. A shadow fell over the little brunet and a familiar deep voice nervously grunting out a shamed greeting.

“Uhhh... Hey, Humphries...”

Alan stiffened and looked up at Eric, knowing he'd just been caught skipping work. He bit his lip and swallowed before standing up, "Senpai—I know I should be working right now but I—"

“Nah, ‘s fine.” Eric cut him off, coming up alongside the young man but refusing to spare him even a fleeting glance. “Mind if I join ye actually?”

Alan bit his lip and looked down, "That's difficult to answer, sir. But you are free to do as you wish…" in all that had happened with William, he hadn't forgotten what Eric had also said to him earlier.

Eric seemed to have noticed the boy’s discomfort, for he grimaced and remained standing upright instead of sitting down like he had intended. Staying silent for another moment more, he watched boy out of the corner of his eye with nervousness.

Alan pulled out a few more weeds before speaking again, "If you aren't here to yell at me for skipping out on work today, why are you here?"

Eric hesitated before releasing a sigh of defeat. “Look... I know I was a bit o’ an ass earlier... And I overreacted...”

"A bit?" Alan threw down the weed he'd just pulled and stood up, turning to look up at Eric's handsome face, "You could have just said no. There was no reason to pull my illness into it! I can't help my health, Senpai!"

Well Rhea be damned, he had Eric there. The man cursed to himself on his luck with poor thinking. “I know, I know... I’m sorry, alrigh’? It wasn’ righ’ o’ me tae react the way I did ‘r bring yer illness intae it.”

"I thought you were different…" Alan sighed looking away, "I thought you, at least, saw more than just my Thorns…and I'm not just speaking about…you know…a relationship. Just…more than a dead boy walking…" he looked down and hugged himself, "I could really use a friend sometimes…"

 Eric crossed his arms over his chest. "I never saw ye fer yer Thorns, kid."

"You could have fooled me. You 'don't date sickies', remember? That shows me you put my Thorns before anything else when it comes to me. I should have never had you read my file properly. I should have let you think I was normal!"

Alan snatched up his pile of weeds to dispose of, but he paused, looking at them.

"…I wish I could get rid of these thorns inside just as easily as a weed in a flowerbed…"

Eric said nothing, watching Alan with confliction. Part of him felt sorry for the poor boy and yet his pride prevented him from giving in and offering him anymore comfort. He said his apology, was as respectful as a man of his caliber could be, and yet here he was crushing himself under the weight of immense guilt.

"…Do you…think that my mother could love a withering son, Senpai?" Alan asked after a long bout of silence between the two. "Flowers…they grow, bloom, and then they are often cut and left to die and be tossed away, never to be thought of again by the people who once gazed at what they had offered the world… I feel like that. Like a flower sitting in a vase, waiting for death and to be forgotten… But would one person remember me after I'm gone? Could they love me even though they can see my death approaching each passing day?"

He looked over at Eric, "I…found out who my mother is…I've always wanted to find my family, but…now I'm afraid of being rejected…"

"I'd remember ye." Eric said. "Would hard no' tae. Yer a differen' kind 'o Reaper, Humphries."

He shook his head, watching the way the boy's fingers tangled spider-limb-like in the stems of the dandelions like hands knotting in hair. "Yer mother... I though' ye said ye had no relatives?"

"I thought so…" Alan sighed and absently started weaving the flowering weeds into the start of a flower crown, "I found out today that I have a mother who has been alive all these years—searching for me…"

"Really?" Eric looked over at him in surprise. "Wha's 'er name? I migh' be able tae talk tae 'er fer ye-"

"She's a man…" Alan shook his head, "No clue on who my father was. I get the feeling that he died, leaving my mother alone."

"Alrigh' then, wha's 'is name? Work in the Dispatch?"

Alan nodded, not knowing if he should tell anyone he was the son of their boss. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for people to know that truth yet about me… the bullying may only get worse." He sighed, "I know I need to try and talk to him, but…I don't know how…when I found out he was my mother I sort of lost myself and yelled at him…I didn't even let him talk, I just yelled and ran off…"

"If anyone bugs ye, come tae me." Eric affirmed. "I dun put up with horseshit. Still... Haven' told me their name yet."

Alan straightened up, having finished the crown of weeds. Reaching up, he placed it on Eric's head, though it was too small for the tall Scot. "That's sweet, Senpai, but I'm not ready. Maybe after I talk to him I'll feel better about telling you. It just…feels like telling anyone else would make it absolute."

He sighed and pulled back from Eric, looking up at him, "I identify better with flowers than with people...they are my only friends." Alan said, gazing down at the bed he had been tending to, "They live short lives, and not many pay them much more than a glance, but they offer so much more to those around them should they take the time to get to know them... I know what that's like. People…I never got a real chance to learn to be around them. It's intimidating for me as it is, so please…let me keep his name to myself a while longer."

He looked back up to Eric, "I won't give up. I wont let myself wilt. I'll bloom and hope that I can leave my mark in this world…even if it is only in the memory of the mother I never knew."

"Tha's the spirit." Eric grinned at him, even as the crown slipped off his head and onto his nose. "Ye know, ye could try talkin' tae Spears about it. 'E could relate tae yer situation."

Alan didn't know what to say or do in response to that. Eric didn't know just how close the supervisor was to Alan's situation.

"I'll…think about it." He promised.

 

* * *

 

The next day Alan stood outside William's office, knocking on the door without a response. It was unlike William not to be in early, and Alan felt a crushing guilt in his heart, feeling that he'd likely hurt his mother more than he'd realized.

"Excuse me, did Mister Spears call in for the day off?" he asked a passing secretary.

She paused and raised her eyebrow at him, "No. He's probably just running a little late today. It doesn't happen often, but every once in a while he'll exhaust himself too much and will miss his alarm. He'll be in shortly."

Alan nodded and thanked her before taking a seat on a bench outside William's office so that he could catch him on the way in.

 

* * *

 

William moaned and rubbed his eye as he rolled over onto his stomach, his face turning away to escape the bright morning light filtering in through a window. With a tired, yet content sigh, he relaxed once more, his mind still deep within his dreams, unaware of the strong, white and scarred arms wrapping around him and holding him close to a warm, comforting body.

The evening before had been an emotional one, William finding his emotions too out of control. It had been strange to him. He hadn't let his emotions escape him in thirty years, and yet, in an instant all his carefully constructed walls had been blown to dust, letting out the flood of everything he'd kept behind the floodgates. Things he hadn't even been aware of.

His son, his job, his friendship with Grell…Undertaker…

Everything had spilled, and after the tears had stopped, he'd felt a strange calmness, like all the stress and weight of life had been removed from his shoulders—and who had been there to help with that?

The retired legendary reaper who had caused so much of it. He had been there to help wash it away with his gentle voice and soft lips and… _pleasure_.

Undertaker was not by any means a morning person. He'd spent too long away from working Dispatch and early mornings, growing used to the pleasures of sleeping in until noon and working well into the night. It was a lifestyle he enjoyed, and this morning his bed just felt so much more comfortable. Something keeping him from wanting to open his eyes, despite the fact that he had obviously forgotten to close the drapes in his bedroom.

There was a warmth in his arms; a feeling very foreign to him. But he decided he enjoyed it as he slid a pale hand down smooth skin, lazily feeling the curve of a body other than his own.

Wait…a body? That wasn't right. He shouldn't have any body in his bed—warm or cold.

Still, his hand slid down further, feeling the plump curve of a butt cheek, his fingertips coming into contact with a wet substance that had only half dried into a crusty mess.

Undertaker's eyes flew open at that, and he nearly cursed as the light burned his eyes and he snapped them shut again long enough to shake his bangs over them.

"…Spears?" he mumbled, recognizing the man in his arms, "… _Why_ does this keep happening?" This was twice now that he'd awoken with this boy in his arms, evidence of their activity together apparent. It only seemed to happen with Spears, and Undertaker was starting to wonder why.

Like before, Undertaker's first instinct was to run. But he took pause. Running had only caused William pain, before. He'd caused this boy too much pain time after time, and knowing that brought a painful throb to his heart.

No…no, this time he would face what he had done. He'd be there when the boy awoke…and if William got angry, he would take it.

Upon making his decision, Undertaker relaxed again, pressing a kiss to William's forehead and petting his messy hair.

William moaned, stirring slightly at the touch. The sunlight danced across his sharp but youthful face, highlighting his features. Even after thirty years, nothing had changed. The same scared, accented German boy from Berlin was there once again in Undertaker's arms as if time itself never transcended.

"William," Undertaker whispered, "Don't you have work, Love?"

Why he used such an endearment, the silver reaper couldn't say, but it rolled off his tongue so naturally.

"Mmmm..." William hummed, snuggling further into the older Reaper's flesh. "I dunno... Lemme sleep, my bottom aches..."

Undertaker winced; trying to think back to if he'd used some sort of protection. Likely not. He wasn't exactly a sexually active man, after all. He wouldn't have had anything unless William had supplied it, and seeing how William seemed to live his life…he doubted William was the type of man to carry such things on him as well. Plus the mess backed up his thoughts.

"Sorry about that, chap." He whispered.

"Mmm last night..." William sighed, relishing in the gentle stroking of fingers against his scalp.

"Did it make you happy?" Undertaker asked, a pale pink coloring his cheeks. He would have guessed that it wouldn't have. Especially after how he'd reacted to their first time together. Surely William hated him…but the boy's voice sounded more happy than angry.

"Very." William moaned, soft little snores soon arising from his mouth.

Undertaker's heart swelled and he smiled to himself, "I'm glad you don't hate me…William." He whispered, pressing his lips to Will's.

"Mm?" William hummed, his eyes slowly fluttering open to greet the pale face of his star-crossed lover. "Hmm...?"

He frowned, confusion settling in like an awaiting storm, threatening to burst free with the thunder of panic and the electrifying bolts of embarrassment.

Undertaker slowly pulled back from the kiss after reaching to the side table for the lone glasses setting upon it. He then placed them carefully on William's face so that he could see properly. "There, is that better?"

William merely blinked up at him with a blank, sleepy expression. "Undertaker...?" he murmured, reaching up with thin hands to trace along the fine jawline of the older Reaper. "What... am I doing here?"

He winced, finally acknowledging the sting in his lower backside. "What..." he gasped, feeling the ooze of last night seep out of his guilty body. "What...!"

The older reaper gave an awkward, guilty giggle, "It seems we can't be trusted together after the sun goes down…I'm sorry for that. But I didn't want to leave you alone to your emotions." He looked up and tapped his lip with a long nail, "Makes a body wonder if the last time had been truly from the drinks or not…"

He shook the thought aside and smiled, "Would you like for me to fetch you a towel, love?"

William could only nod slowly, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. This man... this was a mistake waiting to erupt all over again. What a foolish thing he'd done, letting his cover slip. Now here he was again, in a bed with a man who neither loved or acknowledged his presence, and possibly-

William sat bolt upright, his skin crawling in fear and realization. "Shit!"

"Hmm? I'm surprised you have such language in your vocabulary." Undertaker hummed as he retrieved a grey towel off the rack in the bathroom and came back to hand it to William, his pale nudity bathed in sunlight.

William flushed, forcing his mind back to the significant little 'problem' at hand. "You!" he gasped. "You...! Check!"

"Check?" Undertaker frowned, "Check what?"

"Me!" the supervisor exclaimed, gesturing down to his stomach, unable to formulate proper words. "A baby-!"

"Baby? The older man blinked dumbly behind his messy bangs, "Oh—oh yes. Well, what are the chances that we go two for two on the whole sex-baby thing? Besides, I can't. I don't know how. Moreover, I think it needs time before anyone can 'check' for you. You could try one of those morning after pill thingies…if you don't want it to happen again that is…"

He sighed and crawled up onto the bed, straddling William and pulling him close, "But I won't run this time."

William opened his mouth to speak but closed it a second later, instead resting his weary body up against the Undertaker. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly through his nose. He wanted to speak, to say what was on his mind - about their son, their situation, their everything - but his heart would not let him.

"It'll be okay." Undertaker muttered, running his dark nails through William's hair, combing it back a bit, "I can't fix everything I messed up, but I'll try my best to—starting with you."

"Me?" William turned his head up to the elder Reaper, his eyes too curious and innocent for a man his age. What was assumed his age. Truly, despite his serious nature and iron fist grasping the Dispatch, William was still no more than a young Reaper struggling with growing up too fast.

"I hurt you first." Undertaker nodded, "Understand, I was a different man back then. Work at Dispatch was my entire life. It was all I knew. Retirement has been good to me—good _for_ me. Ahh, laughter is a wonderful utopia…"

The Silver reaper shook his head and used the edge of the blanket to dry the drool that dribbled from his lip, "I had done the only thing that old me knew to do. Protect my standing in Dispatch—and I felt you needed the same. I never considered life being different, my boy, I never thought to explore what we could have had together."

"I don't understand." William frowned. "That night... that was an accident. A misunderstanding... why did you take my son from me?"

"I thought it'd be best for you—family…I never had time or understanding for it, see. I didn't see your—no, I didn't see _our_ son as anything important. Just a complication for what I had, at the time, thought important."

William said nothing more, looking down at his hands fiddling nervously in his lap.

"Give me time, if you can find it in your heart to do so, time to make things up to you. But until then…you have a son to reconnect with." He sighed and pulled away, "The boy may be ready to speak with you again."

But William shook his head in dejection. "No... I do not think so. He was so furious... I doubt my presence would appease him even if he knew the truth."

"Ah, but I spoke with him, remember? I showed him how you wanted to keep him. I showed him how he was stolen from you." Undertaker clicked his tongue, "If he is still upset, it would be at me, not you. Though he does not yet know that I am his father or the reason he was taken from your arms. If there is hate in his heart, it is not for you."

"I...." William started to speak, then stopped and sighed, leaned against his lover.

Undertaker held William in silence for a long moment before speaking again, "If you request it of me, I'll go in to Dispatch with you today…at least, for when you speak to him. The great deities know I owe you that much."

William, however, let out a gasp of shock and panic, pulling away to scramble off the bed. "SHIT! I'm late for work!!!"

"Yes, but I did try to tell you before we started to get so off topic." Undertaker nodded, "So, two questions, would you like breakfast, and would you like me to go with you? I can make you a nice quick meal as you get yourself ready for the day."

William shook his head. "No... Er..."  he blinked up a the man with what he hoped was a grateful expression. "But thank you anyways."

He paused in the midst of reclaiming his pants. "If you wish... you could... join me for lunch later?" A soft pink dusted his cheeks in embarrassment.

Undertaker's grin grew once again and he gave a graceful nod, "I would like that very much, I think. Yes. Oh! Here, don't forget your underpants." He added, grabbing the garment that was hidden under his pillow.

William squeaked indifferently as the article of clothing was tossed to him, scrambling to get it on his person as fast as possible. Finally seeking out his shirt, vest, tie and jacket, he messily readied himself as best he could before scrambling out the door, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling in his anus.

"See you at noon, my dear!" The older reaper called from the bed where he was left alone and naked.

He sighed and flopped back on his pillow, "And now I'm bored…strange…I believe I miss the lad already…"

He trailed off, spotting a black leather folder on the floor near the door. He got up and swept up the wallet, examining it and soon finding William's work ID inside. "Well that's not a good thing to forget. Can't get into the silly building without this…Best get it to him." He spoke to himself, heading out the door. He then turned back around, continuing to mutter.

"He'll never forgive you, you daft old fool, if you chased him down in the buff!"

 

* * *

 

William hurried down the busy streets, cursing silently under his breath whist trying his damnedest not to limp or wince at the growing discomfort. Damn to hell for all his moments of weakness. Now he was faced with the prospect of being written up for being late and he was possibly carrying another child inside his womb. He swore loudly, startling a mother and her two children alongside a couple of jittery pigeons. Damn him for getting himself into the same fucking mess twice in his life.

So distracted with trying to get to work, fix his suit and hair, and struggling inwardly with his life as a whole, William hardly noticed when he took a wrong turn, and then another and another, successfully getting off track for the portal back to the Reaper side and finding himself in the slums of mortal London.

A chattering clicking sound caught his attention, followed by a hissing voice that dripped of poison.

"Get away; it's mine, reaper filth!"

William's nose caught the scent of sulfur and decay, and his eyes narrowed aggressively. Demon - just his luck to run into one trying to grab an easy meal first thing in the morning. Summoning his scythe, he brandished it out before him like a fencing sword, relaying a warning to the best. "Well, well... out having a little snack, are we?"

The demon was wild, lacking the cool charm that the noble-blooded demons had. But that wasn't to say it wasn't powerful. It stooped down, looking somewhat like a feline, its teeth needle-like and crooked. Its eyes glowed and it's black as tar skin oozed a foul smelling goop.

"Mine!" It screeched, leaping in for its attack, blade-like claws outstretched.

William barely had time to brace himself, and the last thing he saw before the world went black was sharp claws, the glow of eerie eyes, and teeth aiming for his throat.

 

* * *

 

Alan sighed, having given up waiting for William at his office. He had work to do and he couldn't afford to slack off two days in a row. He collected his assignments for the day and hurried towards Eric's office where he could get to work without worry of his bullies.

"Stop!"

A sudden, strangely feminine voice caused Alan to skid to a stop and he turned to regard the red reaper who had spoken.

"You…you are Humphries, right?" Grell asked, backing the boy up to a wall and pinning him there.

Alan hugged his work to his chest, "Yes, sir…"

"Please! Call me 'Ma'am'… or maybe 'Her royal Highness, Queen of this dispatch division'."

"Uh…can…I help you with something…Ma'am?"

"Oh!" Grell shook his head as if just remembering why he had cornered the brunet, "I have signed you out of work today. Go to the hospital…you…really do kind of look like him when I get this close…don't you?"

"What?" Alan blinked, more than confused about everything that had just been said.

Grell shook his head and yanked Aln's work from his grasp as he pulled away, "Will-darling is in the hospital. Demon attack…you should go visit him. I'm making that an order as your senior, kid!"

Alan's heart seemed to stop. "Mister Spears--?" He gasped and turned running back towards the lifts.

 

* * *

 

William stirred, confusion wracking his brain in the form of muffled voices and blurred thoughts. He frowned, keeping both eyes closed - he felt so, oh so tired. Which was unusual considering he'd had a full night's rest for a change. And where was his scythe?

Then William grimaced at the arrival of pain settling into his muscles and bones. It was like fire, burning away at his flesh like a molten creature of ravenous cannibalism. Oozing, tearing and breaking him apart. Letting out a gasp, he squirmed, the sensation worsening the more he came to.

"No, don't move." A voice spoke, touching William's shoulder very lightly, "It'll make it worse. Let the nice lady finish cleaning your wounds and then I promise they'll give you something for the pain. We just need to make sure all the toxins have been cleaned out, dear."

"Who-" William gasped, struggling to open his eyes. "Wha-"

"It me." Undertaker pointed at himself, though William couldn't see him, and he knew it. "You're lucky I came across you when I did or you'd be gone by now."

"'Gone'?" William coughed, shifting slightly against the elder man's touch. "What.... are you talking about...?"

Last he remembered, he'd left Undertaker's home above his shop on his way to the Dispatch. The rest was all blank, and the more William pushed himself to think, the bigger his headache grew. He groaned, digging the back of his head deep into the pillows when the doors of the hospital burst open and chaos started to ring in the supervisor's ears.

The Undertaker didn't leave. He moved when a doctor or nurse needed him to, but he stayed by William's side. Always comforting him, always touching him. Be it holding his uninjured hand, or lightly touching his shoulder or face, the elder wanted to make sure William knew he was there.

Finally, the room quieted down and William was left alone wrapped in bandages and stitches, a painkiller finally added to his IV drip.

"I'd like to know how you ended up in the slums with a nasty snot-cat of a demon." Undertaker sighed, "Those are deadly little imps once they get their claws in you. Best to get them as quick as you can when they are farther away from you and still harmless. I'm surprised at you for not dispatching it from a block away. Were you truly that distracted, Willy?"

Before William had the chance to respond, a knock at the door sounded, followed by Alan's sweet, soft voice. "Excise me sir…may I come in?"

Undertaker looked up and smiled at the boy, "Certainly, certainly! Come on in, my boy. Here, you may have my chair. I'll leave you two alone for a bit…I'll be back. See, Willy's glasses got damaged and I plan to take them down to dear Lawrence to get them fixed back up for him."

He took Alan's shoulders and guided him around the bed to sit down before regarding William again, "I told you he doesn't hate you, Willy! Please enjoy catching up with your son before your medication makes you fall into a nice long healing sleep." He took the potted flowers from Alan's hands and set it on the side table.

William froze at the sound of his son's voice, anxiety over what to say or do bubbling to the surface. Swallowing, unable to see and only hear and smell, he turned his head to the source of Undertaker's voice.

Alan bit his lip and hesitated before reaching out and taking William's hand after Undertaker whispered that it would not hurt William if he did so, and left them alone.

"Sir…I…how are you feeling?" He couldn't believe the amount of damage that had been done to his mother, based on the amount of bandages he could see. Inwardly he hoped it only looked bad.

William was silent for a moment, his mouth slightly agap as he struggled to find the words to address his son. "I... Tired. Sick..."

Well now, that was rather pathetic, wasn't it, William T. Spears? William grimaced at his own nervousness. This shouldn't have been so awkward. He curled his hands into small fists and bit his lip.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Alan asked gently. He was surprised, but wasn't with how much he seemed to care about this man who had brought him into the world. He'd always been a caring boy. "I...I brought you flowers… Daffodils. They represent forgiveness, new beginnings and a rebirth. It's potted so they won't die, and I thought…"

"What made you change your mind?" William interrupted, his head now facing in what he hoped was the right direction.

Alan looked down, "I'm sorry…I was upset at the news but that doesn't excuse how I reacted towards you."

William turned his head to the ceiling - what he assumed was the ceiling - and sighed. "No... I'm sorry for not finding you as quick as I should have…"

"If you didn't know I was sick, there was no reason for you to search the hospital!" Alan insisted, "I wasn't in the usual places to be found. It's not your fault. Plus, I get the feeling that they changed my name on you. If I was always 'Humphries' then you would have said something when we first met and not had to have gotten us tested…"

"Alan Thomas Spears." William murmured, struggling to open his eyes a crack, the whites red and puffy. "That was your name. Your middle name... I named you after the first person I had to reap."

"They only changed my last name, then." Alan looked back up at William, meeting his gaze, "I had waited for you at the office, I…I had wanted to ask if we could start over…Mutti." He didn't know why he used that word. He was sure he'd never heard it before but it had come off his tongue so naturally when he tried to call the man 'mom'.

Yet to William, it was another heartbreak all over again. He shuddered, tears forming in his eyes at the sound of his son's voice, calling out to him in his native tongue. Acknowledging their relation to one another.

Alan stiffened and stood up, not understanding the situation, "What? Did…did I say something to upset you, sir? I'm sorry!"

"Nein!" William choked out, his lips twisting into a smile. "I just... Never thought... I vould 'ear you say that. I never thought I vould see you again..."

Alan relaxed again and lowered himself to his seat. "You…suddenly have an accent…" he muttered.

William blinked and then scowled to himself. "My apologies... It is because my first language is not English."

"You hide it well…but may I ask why you hide it? Eric-senpai gets along fine working here in London with his accent…"

"It's not somet'ing I do intentionally. I-" William broke off with a groan, the pain changing from stabbing to nauseating, his stomach churning slightly. "Oh.... Mein Gott...."

"…I'll call for the nurse." Alan suggested for himself, moving to get up.

"No... It's fine... I'll be fine." William waved him off, struggling to sit up.

"Are you sure?" Alan moved to assist William so he wouldn't strain his injuries, "Demon-inflicted wounds are not to be taken lightly."

"I've had worse." William grunted, sighing when he could finally lean back into a more comfortable position against his pillows.

Alan sighed and bit his lip, "I'm sorry…I have never had anyone to worry about before."

William said nothing, instead turning his head to look at his son with a pitying expression. It was tragic that the boy had come to know of such loneliness, when his own mother could have had him in his arms long before. If only... if only he had even thought to look in the hospital itself...

"I am sorry." he said at last, his voice low and hoarse.

Alan shook his head, moving to smooth out the wrinkles in the thin blanket covering William's legs. William was the one that was injured; he had nothing to apologize for.

Before he could speak again, there was a knock at the door to get their attention and a nurse came in with a grave look, "Mister Humphries, could I have a word in private with the patient?"

Alan stiffened, "You have bad news…"

"Please, this is important I speak with him quickly."

Alan bit his lip and looked at his mother.

William nodded, letting a small yawn and nestling back against his pillows as his son was taken from the room. Whatever the news was, he doubted it would be anything worse than the injuries inflicted upon his body by the demon.

Alan nodded and left; head down. He didn't want to leave his mother's side, but it was William's choice, after all. He stood outside the door and the nurse pushed it closed behind him, though not hard enough to make it latch shut, and it bounced back open a crack, allowing Alan the opportunity to accidentally eavesdrop.

"I'm afraid we have gotten your blood work back, Mister Spears, and they are not good. You have been infected and we need to do a blood transfusion before the taint sets in and starts to change you." The nurse admitted, getting right to the problem.

William, who had been expecting an issue regarding a broken limb or wound, stiffened, his eyes going wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This...this was not happening. No, this could not be happening!

His breathing started to quicken as the words raced about his head like a mad horse off its carriage. Blood transfusions in Reapers were not uncommon, but like with human it all depended on the person's blood type. And William's was not a common one, blood type O.

The nurse nodded, "I have looked up what we have available, but I'm afraid that while we do have some, we don't have enough of your type. We are in need of a donor. Do you happen to know anyone with type O who would be willing? A family member, perhaps?"

"No..." William shuddered, trying his damnedest to remain calm. "But... the taint takes about three months to progress... surely we have time to find a donor?"

She shook her head, "Normally we would have time, but tests show that there is a very good chance that you are carrying a child. The taint would affect the baby at a much quicker rate, turning it inside you or even killing it. We aren't one hundred percent sure on this as the traces of pregnancy hormones are very faint and could be a false positive, but it is enough for the doctors to insist you get the transfusion at the earliest possible date."

But the response was enough to stop William's breathing for a mere moment. "I... I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"There is a sliver of a chance you are pregnant, Mister Spears. Though, if you haven't had any sexual encounters recently, please inform me so I can let the doctors know it is a false positive."

"No, it... it is most likely correct..." William admitted, his cheeks flushing pink. "How... long was I out for?"

"Not long. A few hours." She said, frowning as she marked down a note on the file.

Outside the room, Alan was standing frozen in place, his eyes wide and his hands shaking as everything he overheard sank in. His mother…was pregnant? Did it occur often? How many siblings did he have?

And he needed a blood donor…quick. Taking a deep breath, Alan pushed the door open, not making eye-contact with either of the occupants of the room.

"I'll do it." He croaked. "I'll donate the blood…"

"Alan?!" William's head shot up, goldfish staring at his son. Had he heard everything?

Alan didn't look up, "I—I have type O, so we are a match." He spoke in a low, slightly hurt voice, "And my illness can't be transferred to others through blood, so you don't have to worry about getting thorns or—" he swallowed, "—or having another dying child…"

"No, absolutely not. You are too weak to handle it!" The nurse cut in.

"He's my mother!" Alan snapped, looking up at her, "Mister Spears is my mother and so as his son I have the right to offer!"

"Alan...." William felt his heart break at his son's words, his heart breaking all over again at the reminder that the boy was dying and he was to blame for that. Swallowing, he shook his head, reaching to take his son's hand. "No... I won't... I refuse to let you do that. I won't let you weaken yourself for my sake. I won't do that to my own child."

"How many?" Alan asked, still not looking at William, "How many siblings do I have? How many children do you have that you feel you can risk the life of one more just to save the one that is dying from a choice that would weaken me temporarily?" He turned to finally look at William, pulling his hand back out of Will's reach as he regarded him with tearful eyes, "It's my choice! Just because you can't seem to keep your pants on doesn't mean that I can sit back and watch you kill a baby that has more of a chance at life than I do!"

William wanted to say something, but Alan's words stung. He struggled to form words, but nothing came up as his heart ached once again. All of the relief he'd been feeling at coming round with his son simmered away as pain and anger boiled to the surface. Finally, he spoke, tears in his narrowed eyes as words were choked out of dry lips.

"If you are insinuating that I am a whore, I would like to inform you that you are, as of to date, my only child. The only reason I engaged in intercourse was to relieve myself of the agony from your little outburst in my office. That has been the second time I have slept with someone - your own father, if you must be persistent with accusing me of lying around with other men. Furthermore, how dare you accuse me of wanting to kill a child! How dare you!"

He turned away, his expression hurt.

"I won't work myself up anymore. If you continue to think of me as you do, you can leave. I don't have the energy or patience to deal with any more pain."

"How am I supposed to just—know? I didn't even know you were my mother until yesterday! And with how you said that you were most likely pregnant—It sounded like you got pregnant a lot! And I never even said anything about 'sleeping around'. I don't know anything about your personal life!  You could have a boyfriend for all I know—and what do you mean it was with _my_ father? My father's dead! The Undertaker told me so!"

"Uh…I'll…let you two hash this out…" the nurse said, ducking out.

"If you don't want this baby to die then accept my blood!" Alan continued, not hearing the nurse as she closed the door to give them privacy.

"You insinuated it with your little comment about my 'inability to keep in my pants' and the apparent numerous children I enjoy killing." William hissed, tears rolling down his cheeks, ignoring the brunet's second statement on the blood. "And I am glad you think I have had more than one experience with carrying a child - I only believe it likely because bloody Undertaker apparently doesn't know what a condom is!"

Alan was about to refute that he had meant that he had living siblings, not dead ones, and the only one in danger of that was the possible one on the way. But William's last comment stole the words from his mouth.

Undertaker—he was his father? The _Undertaker_ was? Undertaker had _lied_ to him? Why?

Alan  stumbled back with a stunned look on his face.

William, however, was too worked up with his own hurt, turning away with a sniff, glaring down his hands clasped as tears trickled down onto his scraped palms.

"…He's not dead?" Alan choked out.

William did not answer him, turning his head away defiantly.

"…Mom?"

William blinked in attempt to clear the tears from his eyes, though Alan's words sent more welling up.

"Can we…just talk?"

A flicker of the eye told him yes, and Alan took a deep breath, "I never meant to imply that you kill children. I was asking how many siblings I may have alive. You and…and that man could have been able to keep them, after all. I know I was taken from you against your wishes…I'm just…It hurts. The thought that any sibling I may have had got to grow up with you in their life while I was alone…And when you said you didn't want my blood…"

William shook, small little sobs echoing from his mouth as tears rained. Reaching out, he took Alan's hand in his, caressing the soft skin with his thumb.

"All my life," he finally choked out. "You asked about my... my personal life... All of it, I spent looking for you. I wanted my baby back... I never gave up, not once..."

Alan sat down on the edge of the bed, "I…I know…so let me help you. Let me donate my blood to help the mother who always was thinking about me…"

But William shook his head. "I don't... want your blood because I know what it will do to you if you go through that procedure. Alan, even a small amount can trigger an attack, and without enough blood in your system... your body will... I can't risk my son's life like that. And Undertaker, he... he never approached me again until yesterday... about you and everything..."

"I'm used to attacks, and I'll be here with my doctors nearby if I do have one. But I am on medication to manage them. I'm a match, Mother, and you need blood as soon as possible. That soon is now with me here." Alan insisted.

"I don't want to lose you!" William blurted out. "I can't... not after I found you... I can't lose my baby..."

"…Mom," Alan took both of William's hands in his, "I'm strong enough to handle this. I know it. I won't be your only supply, and they have taken large amounts from me before for nothing more than testing. This time, at least, it will be helping you."

William hesitated, before finally nodding. "Alright... Just... promise me you'll come back to me."

"I won't even leave." Alan gently promised.

William shuddered, his hold on Alan's hand tightening temporarily before releasing.

Alan hesitated before leaning in, awkwardly pressing a small kiss to William's temple, "We'll both get through this together."

 

* * *

 

After filling out the paperwork, Alan was laid out on a bed beside William, hooked up with tubes for the procedure. The donated blood from storage was used first and then they switched over to Alan's once it was used up.

It was heartbreaking for William to watch as his son's pallor drained and he grew weaker. But Alan never stopped smiling at his mother, giving his hand a weak squeeze.

But near the end of the procedure, Alan's body suddenly jerked and stiffened. A gasp escaped his lips and his free hand shot to clutch at his heart. The doctors moved quickly to help him through the Thorns attack and finish the transfusion.

When all was said and done, William insisted that his son remain in the same room, and they were left together to recover, their beds pushed close together.

William reached out, pulling his son into his arms, stroking and massaging his head with gentle fingers. The job was done and the taint was on halt for the moment, at least until the staff got another donor or William succumbed. Letting out a sigh through his nose, the supervisor returned his focus to his child. Alan... it had been so long, and yet here his son was. Back in his arms after 30 years of misery. In that time, Alan had grown. He was an adult now, only a couple years shy of William's physical age.

Alan's body trembled in William's hold, and he opened his eyes with some difficulty. Slowly, he slipped his arms around his mother in a loose hold.

"How do you feel?" he asked after a moment more of silence.

"Much better." William affirmed, pressing a kiss to Alan's cheek, tenderly  rubbing his scalp. "They... told me there is a 95% chance that I am pregnant again..."

He looked down, cheeks flushing. "I don't... know what to do..."

"I…can't really help you there… You would know better than I. You have done it before, after all…"

William snorted. "I was the worst example of a parent in the early stages. I wanted my life back... I didn't want any of it. But you grew on me... you became my little one. I wanted to protect you, raise you... and yet I could not even save you from being taken away..."

Alan was silent again, frowning as he imagined what it may have been like.

"Do you mind if I ask you about it?"

"You may." William murmured, moving his hand down to massage Alan's neck.

"Where was my father during it all? Did he help you try to find me again?"

"No... Like I said, yesterday was the first time we'd spoken since your conception... well, since I told him I was pregnant. He originally wanted nothing to do with you or I..."

"Is that why he told me my father was long gone? He…still doesn't want me?"

"I... am not too sure. I think he may have had a change of heart... he isn't the same Reaper he used to be. It's possible he regrets his decision. He... did offer to help out if I ended up pregnant again. But... I am not sure how good his word is... and you... it wouldn't be fair to you..."

"To me? Why do you say that?" Alan asked.

"Because... if the new child has a family with us... and you never got the chance-"

Alan lowered his gaze and sighed, "It's a life I had dreamed of…but there is no reason why the baby should be denied what I had been."

"I don't want to feel as if you are unwanted!" William protested. "I want... if I am... then I want you to be a part of their life as well. I won't shut you out... Even if I have to raise the baby alone if he doesn't want anything to do with you. You won't be pushed away again."

The younger brunet choked up, but tried to hide it, "You won't be alone…I…I'll be its big brother…"

William continued to snuggle his son, trying to make him feel as loved as he used to be as an infant.

 

* * *

 

Grell rapped on Eric's apartment door. It was late and he had no doubt that Eric would be asleep, but he wanted to deliver his message before he forgot and poor Alan would get into trouble for not showing up for work in the early morning.

"Eric! Eric, get your sexy Scottish arse out of bed!"

A groan sounded followed by shuffling, the lock on the door clicking before swinging open and Eric's tired face appeared. Upon seeing Grell, he scowled, rubbing at the underside of his eyes as he growled irritably.

"Dammit, Sutcliff, it's three in the mornin'! Wha' the hell do ye want?!"

Grell grinned, his eyes sweeping over Eric's disheveled and mostly nude form, fully enjoying the view. He bit his lip, imagining what it'd be like in bed with the man—and successfully distracting himself.

"-ell... GRELL!" Eric's voice snapped at him, the man's bloodshot eyes narrowing at the perverted look on the redhead's face. "Sutcliff, I ain' yer eye candy!"

Grell shook his head, "As long as you are single you are!" He grinned, pushing his way in past Eric into the dark apartment and flipping on a lamp, "But you are right. I came here for a reason."

He spun around to face Eric, "Your cute little junior won't be showing up for work in the morning. He's in the hospital."

Eric, who had been about to snap back at the redhead, stiffened. "Wha'?!?! Why?"

"Because he's annoyingly too sweet for his own good!" Grell made himself at home on Eric's sofa, "From what I heard, the boy demanded the doctors use his blood in a transfusion for my darling Will when he heard that Will had been infected with demonic taint. It caused him to have some sort of heart attack or something. Now the doctors refuse to let him out for at least a few days."

Eric, if possible, paled more than he already had, knowing fully well what Grell was describing. In his mind, thoughts of reassurance surfaced, but his worry and newfound concern for the boy overrode all other senses. Until he heard the name of his previous mentee.

"Wait... Will? Why would 'e be concerned abou' Will?"

Grell shrugged, "Ever thought about getting to know him yourself? You're getting a bit personal and I don't feel comfortable discussing Willy's personal life."

"Still dun answer m' question, Red" Eric growled, narrowing his eyes at the younger Reaper. "Spit it out."

"Ask him yourself. I'm tired of being involved in _that_ mess. William just refused to listen to me and now they are both hurting."

The redhead sighed and looked up over his glasses at Eric, "I will say this, though. They both have been in a lot of pain, I'm not sure if them getting close is a good idea or not, but they do both need someone to be there for them. Willy won't let me be his shoulder to lean on, so I'm quite helplessly watching from the sidelines."

"I still dun get it." Eric frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I dun know how I can help if I dun know wha' the issue is. Wha's Alan got tae do with Will?"

"Does their connection really matter? The point is, he got himself stuck in the hospital for a few days, so you'll be able to work alone for a while." Grell smiled, "Which means you can be into work a little later tomorrow morning…care to spend the lonely night with someone sexy, sexy?" he reached out, running his hand up along Eric's thigh.

Eric scowled and swatted the offending hand away. "Beat it, Red. The connection matters because I wanna know wha' I'm gettin' m'self intae before I jump in!"

"Oh please. I heard what happened when that poor kid confessed to you—you don't care about him other than the fact he's your responsibility until he graduates from trainee to junior officer. No one cares about that kid but Will. Maybe that’s your answer right there. Maybe he helped Will because the iceman actually was the first caring hand to reach out to him!"

Eric ignored the comment and continued to glower at Grell. "Ye know somethin'... I know ye do..."

"I know you hurt the kid, and I know that's unlike you. You must really hate him." Grell shrugged.

"I dun hate him." Eric said, shaking his head. "Look... I apologized already, made up... Jus'... Please. Tell me wha's up with 'im and Will..."

"Why? Jealous?" Grell smirked and stood up, stretching and heading to the door, "Well, since you aren't up for a round or two of sex, I guess I'll be on my way. Maybe next time, hottie~"

"Beat it!" Eric snapped, growling as the redhead left his apartment. He frowned, his mind whirling slightly at the thought of Spears and Humphries alone together in the hospital. The next second, his cheek was red, palm throbbing and mouth spouting numerous Gaelic curses.

Why the hell should it concern him anyways?

* * *

To be continued…


End file.
